


Lon'qu: The Peerless Blade

by LemonyDave



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M, From past to future, Going to get Angsty, If you know the story of Lon'qu then you know, Ke'ri ain't gonna make it, More tags added as I go along, Tags Contain Spoilers, mention of prostitution, mentions of Fates but not enough that I feel like I should tag it definitively, rape mention, wait a second I just did
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 00:16:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 49
Words: 38,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11725545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonyDave/pseuds/LemonyDave
Summary: (The work formerly known as Hopeless.)Lon'qu has a complicated life's tale that has never been truly explored. Join us as I tell the tale of the Peerless Blade in vingettes, from his birth to his eventual death. Click this work... and enjoy.





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> This, unlike my other work, will have no regular update schedule, and few authors notes. You get what you get on this one folks. I'll stop wasting your time now.

Lon’qu. The name stirs divisive respect. For those who have fought with him, have befriended the swordsman, the name inspires a warm feeling in the chest. The sort of feeling that you get eating a warm meal on a cold day. He may be an acquired taste, but for those he had put his life on the line to protect? He was a sight for sore eyes. The greatest and most stalwart of allies.

He was also a fearsome predator.

For those caught at the business end of his blade, he inspired fear like no other. Berserkers and barbarians intimidated with noise and passion. Lon’qu was the exact opposite of a Berserker. He was a cool precision. He would follow you, his target, with a single minded determination until you or he were dead. There was no passion. He was cold, like the frozen wastes he called his home. 

That dispassion and precision caused many an opponent to falter for just a moment. A moment that Lon’qu took advantage off.

His enemies hated him. His allies loved him. 

His entire story has never been told.

Even the smallest window of knowledge into this man’s past or future brings an intrigue to the souls of those who are enlightened. All I have, as a great chronicler of history, are precious few snapshots of this hero’s life. These will tell the greatest story ever delivered to your mortal ears. The story of his fall, his rise, and his ascension. By the blood of heroes new and old, you will not be disappointed.

The story of Lon’qu of no given name.


	2. Chapter 1

All slums are different. All slums are the same. The people and geographies are different, of course. Different merchants hawk different wares on the street corners, different whores walk different streetsides asking for different coin in pay. Everything is different, but the smell is the same. The smell of excrement and death intermarrying to the point of it creating a choking cloud of gas for those visiting this unwashed portion of the city. The looks on people’s faces are the same. The same desperation. Hunger. Everything in the slums is the same, except when it’s different.

Chon’sin’s slums are especially foreboding. While the rich carry swords, and paint spectacular art, and stand a strong, proud, militant culture, the poor carry what they own in a clenched fist and on their back. They starve in the streets, and die forgotten like animals. The rich protect the poor upon occasion with their blades, but more often than not they use their blades to oppress. To rob and murder their own people. 

The oppressors are only one layer of the trouble. The oppressed rob and murder one another with just as adeptly as the rich do. The world of the Chon’sineese slums is a place where you are required to sleep with one eye open in order to survive. 

Lon’qu survived this trial. It tempered him into the sort of warrior he would become.

Lon’qu’s mother was probably a whore-- he could have counted on one hand the woman that were not. Another disgusting facet to the situation. Women had to survive on their backs. Perhaps this contributed to his disgust with women later, but I personally hold a differing theory. 

I digress, but the alternative to his mother being a whore is much more sinister. Plenty of guardsmen and soldiers decided they wanted what they couldn’t pay for. It makes me sick insinuating it, let alone putting it to page.

Any way you look at it, It cannot be the more pleasant option people grow used to. His mother left him to die, and there was never a mother present. Luckily for him, someone in that damned city wished to exploit him.

A woman weaned him, wishing to sell him as a slave later. He lived that way for six years, being groomed for slavery. Oppression from the oppressed. Then the guard, ironically I might add, arrested the women and freed her potential slaves. The way they freed them? Throwing them on the street to starve.

There is little detail to this portion, because Lon’qu himself remembers little of it. What he does remember is how he learned to survive.

Peeling potatoes seemed an innocuous and mundane task. But the potato peels were his means of survival. Moving from inn to brothel to bar to house, he offered to peel their potatoes for the peelings. It worked. The slimy morsels were sustaining, and the establishments got seemingly free labor. As a side effect, his skill in peeling the legumes grew to astronomical heights.

When he wasn’t peeling potatoes, he was fending off other boys who seemed anxious to cave his skull in. The way he did so was remarkable. He stole a sword. The one and only thing he ever stole in his life. He hid it. He protected it. He trained with it. It was a means of survival and defense in this world where people would kill one another for potato peelings.

He lived hand to mouth for another six years of his life. No meaning for drudging on to the next day in this horrendous existence other than to trudge on to the next horrendous day. It was a meaningless crawl, fingerhold and toehold through this mire of day to day life. It was, until he met her.


	3. Chapter 2

He met her, and he felt his routine come to a crashing halt.

She was two years older than he was, effeminate build and a humor sparkling in her eyes. The sight of her made him want to wash his body vigorously. He had never taken a bath in his life, and yet this woman made him self conscious of the condition of his hygiene. He wanted to speak to her. He HAD to speak to her.

He had to hit around seven or eight more establishments in order to get the nourishment he needed. His hunger was growing more uncontrollable by the day. He was growing at unmaintainable levels. His clothes were getting tight to the point that he was having trouble hiding his blade from the guard. He had hundreds of other things to be worrying about beyond this girl he had only seen.

It was as if some otherworldly force drew him to speak to her.

“What are you doing?” Lon’qu asked the girl.

“Sorting vegetables.” She sighed. “It has to be done.”

“Can I help?” Asked Lon’qu in a quiet, understated voice. The girl’s face broke out into a grin, and a sparkle shot into her eye.

“My Dad always told me to be wary of strange boys offering to help me.”

“My name is Lon’qu.” He introduced himself. “I am not as strange now.”

“Ke’ri.” She responded. “Carrying a bucket of potato peelings doesn’t seem the least bit odd to you?”

“That’s my lunch.”

“You are going to eat that?” Ke’ri pulled a disgusted face.

“Along with anything else the innkeepers give me for my work.” Lon’qu shrugged.

“Ah. So you are a mercenary.” Ke’ri chuckled.

“Armed with a potato peeler.” Lon’qu agreed.

“Armed with more than that judging by that bulge under your shirt.” Ke’ri observed.

“Not so loudly.”

“Swords are illegal aren’t they?”

“Yes, so it would be better for everyone if you stay quiet about it.”

“I don’t particularly care as long as it isn’t used on me.” Ke’ri shrugged. “As for payment, you can take any partially spoiled vegetables we have in stock. If you cut off the bad parts, they will be just fine.”

“My thanks.” Lon’qu gave her a slight bow, to which she laughed in response.

“None of that! You’re working for that food.”

Ke’ri was hypnotizing. She moved with all of the grace of a dancer, and grinned with an innocence that he had yet to see in the slums. She was the daughter of a middle class family who, of course, were quite shocked at the sight of a street waif helping stack vegetables. Them, being as they were, and Lon'qu being as he was, they were initially under the impression that Lon'qu was stealing from them.

Once Ke’ri explained the situation, they were cautious rather than furious. Lon’qu could respect that mentality. He had heard of many a merchant killed by street waifs. Survival was paramount, no matter where one was on the social ladder.

They agreed to let Lon’qu on as hired help on occasion for unwanted vegetables. This was when Lon’qu went from desperate to strong. His diet improved slightly, so his physical condition improved immensely. He had the build of a warrior, even as a child. He talked to the parents often, though now those conversations are tinged with red. He spoke to Ke’ri even more often, although those conversations are now tinged with blue. He was thriving then. He had his first taste of happiness.


	4. Chapter 3

Lon’qu saw guards in the street often. They were normally harmless. Passed out drunk, or part of the way there. Lon’qu preferred them that way. They were truly dangerous when sober.

They often extorted Ke’ri’s parent’s business. They just paid whatever toll with a sigh, always making sure Ke’ri was out of sight. This was a wise decision. Lon’qu had seen the consequences of those who did not hide beautiful young women while an extortion was going on.

They gambled away other people’s property. Gold that wasn’t theirs to begin with spilled from their hands like blood from a cut palm. They spent it whoring, drinking, the aforementioned gambling, guards are supposed to protect. Not be the greatest scourge to their own city. They were less guards and more prodigals. Less watching, more drinking--their unofficial motto. They were not protectors. They were not guards. False guards from a false king.

There was a statue residing near where Lon’qu strode with his bucket of vegetables and potato peelings. A statue of the ruler of Chon’sin. Fe’lon. His two children Say’ri and Yen’fay were at his sides looking up at him with love as he held the royal blade Amatsu high. The description might have once said something about a benevolent ruler watching over his people.

A benevolent ruler that watched as his people starved in their own shit, all the while growing fat in a palace off of the food he stole from them. A benevolent ruler who cared more about paintings and statues then his own people. A benevolent ruler who ignored the screams as his guards plundered his own kingdom. Truly he was a paragon of benevolence.

The common folk made their regard for their ruler plain with the things that they put on that statue. Feces and phallic drawings and pleas to the gods for his rule to end. Those who were caught were punished with death, thereby only adding fuel to the fire as they carved out his name. Chiseled thief into the broad chest of the man that was supposedly protecting them. His regard with his country was plain to see.

Lon’qu later heard that when Valm invaded Chon’sin, they were met with cheers from the common man. He was not in the least surprised.


	5. Chapter 4

One rainy day, Lon’qu was helping Ke’ri stack the vegetables once again.  
“You know what I want?” Ke’ri asked Lon’qu one day. “I want to move out of this city. Grow my own vegetables.” She picked up a tomato out of her basket and placed it in the appropriate bin. “Maybe I’ll even have a cow or two. Chickens and horses.”  
“A Pegasus.” Lon’qu suggested.  
“You know it’s a dream when a girl has a pegasus on her farm.” She laughed.  
“Why not?” Lon’qu shrugged.  
“Why not indeed.” Ke’ri mused. “What do you dream of?”  
Lon’qu could not tell her of what he dreamed. He dreamed of it every night with startling clarity. He had to treat it carefully. If he moved too quickly-- If he told her exactly what he dreamed, he had no doubt that she would never speak to him again.  
“Security.” He only half lied. “I want to be able to sleep without wondering if someone will kill me.”  
“An admirable goal.” Ke’ri nodded sagely. “You are very practical. And also very boring.”  
“Says the girl who dreams of owning a farm.”  
“Hey. Hey!” Ke’ri snapped her fingers twice. “A farm with a pegasus on it.”  
“You only added that when I suggested it.” Lon’qu pointed out.  
“Guilty.” She admitted. “I can’t help if you have good ideas.”  
There was a silence after that. The kind of silence only borne from two people comfortable in one another’s presence. She occasionally glanced over to Lon’qu. As if she wanted to say something, or was waiting for him to. The answer came a moment later when the tarp keeping the rain off of their heads dipped and allowed the rainwater to soak Lon’qu.  
He felt humiliated for a moment, before he heard her laughter. It was like an angel chorus. The dripping wet all over his body combined with the almost sensual experience of her laughter was a confusing experience.  
“Got you.” She giggled.  
“That was a prank?”  
“You catch on quickly.” She grinned. “It takes experience to know where and when the tarp will dip.”  
“Experience I don’t have.” Lon’qu rolled his eyes.  
“Precisely.” She readily agreed.  
“Wouldn’t that make it less a prank, and more you withholding information?” He pointed out.  
“I-it’s still a prank!” She protested.  
“Whatever you say.” His soaked body continued stacking vegetables. She pointed at him.  
“Next time I will prank you, I will prank you so hard that you will laugh along with me.”  
If it meant hearing that peal of laughter again, Lon’qu would do anything.


	6. Chapter 5

Lon’qu’s “home” was a rank back alley behind a run down inn. He had no real home. This home was his for as long as he could manage it, but every home rarely lasted longer than a month. He kept time by the time of day the people in the adjacent buildings emptied their chamber pots into his home. The family to the east dumped every morning, and the inn to the west dumped every evening. Lon’qu’s home constantly smelled like the matter that was dumped within it. It smelled, it had no manner of privacy, but it was his.

Two men entered the back alley with shivs in hand-- it looked as if Lon’qu would have to move soon. One was sans one eye, and looked like he had moss growing on his teeth. The other stood like a giant. He looked foreign.

Lon’qu let his sword drop into his hand, feeling the comfortable weight in his palm. It was bronze, and lacked a crossguard, so it would go straight through a man, pommel and all, if thrown. As it were, it covered Lon’qu’s hand in viscera every time he used it. He was sure this time would be no exception.

“You got a good setup here kid.” The one-eyed one proclaimed. “Too bad you’re gonna be givin’ us all the details of how it works before ya die.”

Moss-mouth McOneeye was not the threat. The threat was the gargantuan man beside him, with fists large enough to crush a skull in one blow. He had to make this quick.

“I have to admit.” The man looked around. “You seem to be in a rough spot any--”

“Be silent.”

Lon’qu closed the distance between them, and stabbed the large man directly in the stomach. He could feel the intestines warm against his hand for a moment, before drawing out and chopping off the one eyed man’s left hand.

They both screamed in unison, falling to their knees as rubies spilled out of their bodies and onto the paved, dusty streets below. Lon’qu took an extra moment to draw the blade across the foreign man’s throat. Blood sprayed out all over the other man.

“Tell whoever you work for to leave me alone.” Lon’qu instructed him. “If you work for no one, you will be too beggared to do anything.”

One eye realised what was going to happen, and attempted to get away. He couldn’t-- at least not before losing his other hand to the same fate.

As the man ran away, Lon’qu cleaned his blade on the corpse’s shirt. He would have to relocate once more, perhaps somewhere that was closer to Ke’ri. The bigger issue was that he had lost an entire day’s meal due to the blood that was now on it. He would need a new bucket as well. Perhaps he could find one on the way to a new home.

No one cared enough to investigate the murder.


	7. Chapter 6

Ke’ri’s father approached Lon’qu around six months after he started working for them. He was your typical vegetable salesman. As in your average middle class middle man. He was of average build, average height, and black hair; The most average hair color. He cheated the farmers that sold him product, but hey: if that was his worst sin, then he deserved a medal. He loved his family intensely, and would protect it at all costs. That meant letting other people with farms tighten their belts so that he could provide for his. A strange combination of business and family in this one man. The most peculiar average man you would ever meet.

He approached Lon’qu and said this:

“Ke’ri claims that you’ve been sleeping in back alleyways.”

"I have been for half a dozen years.” Lon’qu agreed.

"And you have been working for me for a half a dozen months.”The man rubbed the back of his head. “If you were going to do something stupid, you would have done it by now.”

"Stupid isn’t in my nature.” Lon’qu grinned back.

"Do you think I am stupid?” His tone made Lon’qu’s smile disappear. 

"No Sir.”

“We are both pretending that you didn’t scare off that drunk guard with a torch three weeks ago.” The man’s eyebrow looked as if it were attempting to escape.

“It would be bad if I let your buisness burn.” Lon’qu pointed out.

"Ever the pragmatist.” 

“You have to be.”

There was a pause in the air as that comment digested.

“Winter is coming soon.” The man pointed out.

“I have survived before.” Lon’qu chuckled. “But thank you for the concern.”

“We have an extra bedroll. You have served us well. And for free.”

“I took the spoiled vegate--"

“No one was going to buy those anyway.” The man pointed out. “Either way, I would be remiss not to offer the bedroll for the winter at least.”

“I have survived before.”

“What kind of survivor has pride?” He extended an arm. “Just for the winter.”

“Alright.”

When Lon’qu took the hand, he was drawn in so that the older man could whisper in his ear.  
“If my family is put in danger because of you, it won’t matter how good you are with that sword. I will hunt you down and kill you. Understand?” He brought Lon’qu back out to arm’s length. “Let’s get you settled then.”

Lon’qu was under the distinct impression that this was Ke’ri’s doing, not her father’s.


	8. Chapter 7

Lon’qu looked up at the ceiling as he lay next to Ke'ri.

"Thank you.” Lon’qu told her.

“Hm? For what?”

“Do you expect me to pretend that your father invited a street waif into his home of his own volition?” Lon’qu chuckled.

“That’s a loaded question if I have ever heard one.” Ke’ri chuckled right back. “I… I helped your dream come true. Right?”

Lon’qu racked his brain to remember the exact thing that he told her, rather than the actual subject of his dreams. Security he said. Yes.

“Your father certainly helps me feel secure.” Lon’qu nodded.

“You don’t have to be sarc--"

“I was being serious.” Lon’qu assured her. “Your father will do anything to keep his family safe. In this case, I am helped by extension.”

“Ah.” They sat in that comfortable silence that felt like a pool of fresh clean water on the skin. “So.” Ke’ri finally said. “Do you have a new dream?”

Lon'qu thought about telling her the truth for a moment. He dismissed it immediately. It was not time yet.

"Yes.” He admitted. “I… wish to help you reach your dream. As you helped me reach mine.”

“Boo.” She slapped Lon’qu with the back of her hand. “That’s a boring dream. That’s my dream. Pick your own.”

"I truly wish to help you achieve your dream.” Lon’qu and Ke’ri rolled to face one another. 

“What dream was that?” Ke’ri asked with a smile, their faces inches apart.

“A farm. You will grow your own vegetables instead of buying them from other farmers. You will have chickens, and cows, and--"

“A Pegasus. Don’t forget the pegasus.” Ke’ri reminded him.

“A Pegasus.” Lon’qu agreed. “And you will live happily there.”

“Where are you?” Ke’ri asked. Lon’qu’s face burned at the sudden realization of their proximity.

“What?” He saw Ke’ri’s face inch closer to his.

“Where are you in this dream? I can’t imagine you not being there.”

Ke’ri’s eyes closed as she let her forehead meet his, and she brushed her lips gently on his. As soon as she did, her eyes shot open.

“Got you.” She laughed aloud, and Lon’qu put some distance in between them in frustration. He touched his lips, and felt her warmth on them. He had always ran cold, so it had to be her. All of that was a prank?

“Was that all it was?” He whispered bitterly.

“Hm?” Ke’ri cocked her head. “It was a prank Lon. No need to take it seriously.”

“I want to help your dream come true, because I want to be there with you.” Lon’qu gazed steadily into her eyes. “What if I don’t want that to be a prank Ke’ri?” He shook his head and turned away. “What if I want to be there standing beside you?”

"I know what my father would say.” Ke’ri smiled. “You’ve only lived fourteen winters. You are too young to be making that sort of decision.”

“I think I have lived twelve. And I don’t know what my father would say. He was some man who fucked some whore. Then I appeared. That’s what I have always been told.”

"Perfect.” Ke’ri chuckled mirthlessly. “My father would be even less likely to accept us.”

They sat in silence for a while longer, at this point lovers in all but deed.

"You know what?” Ke’ri sighed. “I would love a farm. But I would settle for freedom.” She stood up. “Freedom to live how I want, somewhere beyond this shitty vegetable stand. Freedom to love who I want, someone beyond my father’s choice. Freedom to even choose to love you.”

Lon'qu turned to look at her at this point.

"You want to know why I wanted to make your dream true? Because I could. Because I could open the door for you. Something I could not possibly do for myself.” Wet spots appeared on the wood floor, staining the wood and dust dark. “My farm will only stay in my dreams. The things I want are to stay in my dreams. Mother claims that I will learn to love him. Just as she did my father.”

"Who?” Lon’qu asked.

“Shin’feng. He’s a banker’s son. A banker’s fifth son.” She turned to face Lon’qu. “You are only here to serve two purposes Lon’qu. To ensure my cooperation, and to be my replacement.” Lon’qu recoiled. “I suppose my parents weren’t as forthright with you about it as they were me.”

“Ke'ri..."

"It stays a prank Lon’qu. The prank I should never have pulled. For both of our sakes.” Ke’ri left the room at that, staining the world from Lon’qu’s eyes in the darkest of blacks.


	9. Chapter 8

The winter dragged on like a discordant note.

Lon'qu had more work peeling potatoes, and it was a good thing too. The entire family now used it to supplement their diets. Ke’ri and her mother pulled faces, but the father tore into them with gusto. He claimed that if he had some oil, he could fry them into a culinary masterpiece.

On that note, when Lon'qu began bringing home potato peelings, the father immediately began doing all he could to make him feel welcome. Suddenly he got smiles of recognition rather than cautious gazes. 

Lon'qu mainly started to peel potatoes again to stay out of Ke’ri’s way. He had heard one too many conversations about a marriage that could be coming next year. A marriage that ripped his soul against itself when he heard about it. He left Ke’ri to deal with it on her own.

He was a coward.

Instead he took on the work of a provider. Walking out in the cold and snow to bring home buckets of potato peelings-- an unlikely savior that winter. He gained their trust. They began-- with him not knowing it-- to consider him a son that they never had.

All the while Lon'qu was running away from the truth. The truth that Ke’ri was set to marry another. The truth that he did not know how he could go back to the way things were without her.

On and on for another two years that went. The Banker’s son was replaced by a guard captain’s son who was replaced by a fruit stand owner. The fiancé kept changing, but the message stayed the same.

Lon'qu and Ke’ri shared a lot over those two years. The same thoughts about one another playing over and over again in their minds like a ball rolling over a worn street. The same street at different times it rolled. Wondering often what it would be like down this alleyway or another.

One day, he came home with two buckets of potato peelings. Inside was a man Lon'qu recognized. 

“Ah Lon'qu!” Ke’ri’s father ushered him in. “This is the owner of the Green Dragon Inn.”

“We have met.”

“So this is where you take those potato peelings to! I should just ask for them pre peeled then.” He joked, nudging Ke’ri’s father.

“You would still have to pay for the potatoes themselves.” Ke’ri’s father monotoned.

“I’m sure that we could work something o--” 

“Why is he here?” Lon'qu interrupted. “I make it a priority not to take work home with me.”

“Since you know Rin’tun, that will make this easier. Tell me. Do you know his daughter Ti’fan?”

Ti’fan was a whore in all but the most technical sense. The guard of the city had an unspoken understanding with Rin’tun. As long as Ti’fan continued to agree to provide her services for free to the guard-- her only customers-- then the Green Dragon Inn would remain an unextortable business. At least, that was the conclusion that Lon'qu had drawn by only watching the situation play out in passing.

“I know her well enough.” Lon'qu said, short. Rin’tun seemed to wince at this. Ke’ri’s father ignored it.

“Well then, we have been talking…” Ke’ri’s father trailed off.

“Go on.” Lon'qu prompted.

“Would you like to marry my daughter?” Rin’tun blurted.

Lon'qu paused for a moment as if he hadn't heard him correctly, though he had heard him very well. He looked at him, waiting though he knew exactly what was going on. Rin'tun continued:

“I realize there is a question of your birth, but I assure y--”

“Why don't you ask one of the guards who fathered the bastard?” Lon'qu bluntly said, putting his hands on his hips.

“I… I--”

“You expect me to go near your establishment,” Lon'qu continued. “And work within fifteen feet of your daughter’s room every day, and not know what is going on?”

“I… should have known you would be this sharp.” Rin'tun chuckled.

“Then why me? Why not one of the guardsmen?”

“She would… need to continue her work at our inn--”

“You mean brothel.” Lon'qu corrected. “The sort that whores out the owner’s daughter.”

“She is not a whore--”

“Then what do you call her?” Lon'qu shot back.

“My daughter.” The man protested. Ke’ri’s father interjected.

“Lon'qu, I realize we owe each other nothing.” He tapped his fingers on his leg. “This is me helping you as a friend to get you a decent marriage--”

“This is many things, decent is not one of them.” Lon'qu raised an eyebrow.

“Fine. Fine. A mar--”

“A mirage. She would continue her work, I would continue mine. If I wanted to fuck a whore, I would toss two gold to the next woman I saw on the street and be done with it. You are asking me to participate in a farce.”

“What are you expecting?” Ke’ri’s father spread his arms. “A princess?”

“No. But I might as well with how likely it is to happen.” Lon'qu sighed. Ke’ri’s father put his hand on his shoulder.

“Then just do it. Spare the child your fate.”

“You do not truly think this is the best I can ask for.” Lon'qu rolled his eyes. “A wife I rarely see with children who are most likely not mine.” Lon'qu tsked sharply. “If you would just claim me as your son--”

“You are not my son. You are a hopped up bastard I picked up from the streets.” Lon'qu’s blood ran even colder, and his vision ran red.

“Then that is even more of a reason to not take this marriage on your recommendation sir.” Lon'qu bowed. “Good day.”

Lon'qu walked to the kitchen, dropped off the peelings, then walked up the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep in mind: Savage Qu is Best Qu. Also, I probably could expand upon this part of his backstory another 20 chapters. Two years is a long time, and that is my headcanon amount of time they knew each other before... well... you'll see. I don't do many of these, so just grin and bear it, but I am going to ask you all a question:  
> Who all is noticing all the Lon'qu fanfictions here recently?   
> On the first page there is a bunch of them. It's really cool that there are so many, but it really is making me feel like a drop in a bucket. Ok I'll shut up now.


	10. Chapter 9

Ke’ri sat with her back against the wall, looking at Lon'qu as he entered the sleeping room everyone shared. She sighed and looked me over.

“I wish that I had your freedom.” She shook her head. “To say no to my father.”

“I don't believe I do.” Lon'qu looked around the room. “I believe that I am going to have to leave this house now.” Lon'qu looked back at Ke’ri. She sighed.

“I’ll miss you.” She smiled with a melancholic air.

“No. You won't.” Lon'qu looked into her eyes. “You are coming with me.”

“Lon'qu…” Ke’ri sighed.

“Ke’ri. I can protect you. You know I can.”

“That's not the issue Lon…” Ke’ri sighed. “The only reason I am not married right now is because others flaked on my parents. This one is looking like it will stick.”

“Forget your parents.” Lon'qu snapped.

“Lon'qu. I can't just do that. My parents--”

“Are trying to do what's best for themselves. Not for you.” Lon'qu pressed his side against her’s lightly. “I want what you want.”

“Lon'qu, you have no idea how much you are tempting me right now.” Ke’ri closed her eyes and sighed. 

“Do not be tempted.” Lon'qu put a hand on her leg. “Let's go. I will marry you. I will… do anything for you.”

“Lon… my dowry… my parents…”

“Shackles.” Lon'qu finished. “I offer a different dowry. Your dream.”

“Lon…”

“I will have to work as a farmhand for a decade, maybe two. I will buy you a farm. With land, and cows, and pigs, and chickens--”

“A Pegasus?” Ke’ri chuckled.

“It’s the least you deserve.” Lon'qu pulled her into a kiss.

Ke’ri said that it would be the last prank, but there had been many since then. Secret kisses in the middle of the night while her parents slept. They were always called a mistake; always called the last time. They always had two things in common. One: They never went beyond mucosal contact. Ke’ri was too afraid of her parents waking to make it into anything else. Two: They were always initiated by Ke’ri. Lon'qu was too soft spoken, not confident enough to press her like this.

Lon'qu was breaking the rules. The unspoken rules. He needed her to stay with him. He needed her to choose him over her family. That was worth everything to him. It was his dream to be with her. There was no substitution.

A loud noise resounded outside of the room, and there was the sound of a door slamming. Lon’qu peeked outside into the main room of the house. It was completely empty.

“Now is the time to choose Ke’ri.” Lon’qu extended a hand. “I have to leave. Your chance to leave ends with your father’s return.”

Ke’ri bit her lip, considering Lon’qu’s offer. Would she leave everything she knew and follow Lon’qu to chase her happiness? If only corpses could talk. Then perhaps we could know what she was thinking in that exact moment. The choice that sealed both of their fates.

Ke’ri grabbed Lon’qu’s hand and used it to pull herself up. She grinned, and looked at him with a sparkle in her eye.

“Let’s go.” She ran out the door almost faster than he could keep up. Then they ran. And they ran. They ran until their lungs burned, and familiar streets blurred by and gave way to unfamiliar ones. They ran until they couldn’t run anymore. Then they collapsed into a pile of wheezes and giggles.

Their new surroundings were a river’s mouth, opening to try and consume the insurmountable sea. They were shaded by a tree, and the masts of docked ships pointed like accusing fingers to the sky. Ke’ri sat up after a moment, and pulled several vegetables that she had apparently stolen from the stand on her way out.

“Let’s have a picnic.” She laughed.

If only she had chosen differently. If only they had run a little farther. I would not be telling this tale, but perhaps that would be for the best. Tales rarely come from the lives of happy men. A group of five guards rounded the corner.

“What do we have here?” The first guard chuckled. “A man with a whore?” 

“I am not for sale.” Ke’ri responded with a steel retort.

“I think you are, else how would ya be with a brat like him?” He gestured at Lon’qu with a dismissive wave.

“He is my husband.” Ke’ri claimed, despite having never done anything to consummate any relationship ever. “Now leave us be.”

“Bullshit.” A third one, this one scrawny and twitchy. “I don’t see any ring.”

Lon’qu thought quickly, and responded with: “We could never afford one. And I do not have the skill to make one.”

“No ring, no marriage.” Another snickered. “She’s a whore!”

Lon’qu felt a sting across the back of his head. Another as his face fell to the cobblestone. He felt warmth flow onto the street. The last things he heard:

“Help! HELP!” It was Ke’ri screaming.

“Who’s going to help you? We’re the guard!” A male voice laughed.

“Yeah. No need for all that. We are paying you after all.” Another male voice faded against his ears.

Then nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to me...  
> Happy birthday to me...  
> Hope they enjoyed the chapter.  
> Whether or not they talk to me.


	11. Chapter 10

Lon’qu woke to hear muffled sobs among the laughter of guardsmen. He had a splitting headache, and he smelled the tang of his own blood on the cobblestone. He sat up slowly. Luckily, the men were absorbed in their new prize.

Lon’qu saw a sight that made him sick to his stomach. It etched an unhealable scar on his mind. The woman he loved, the woman he vowed to protect, prostrated before danger. Her body was wracked with sobs as a growing pile of gold formed beside her.

“Don’t you cry!” The man beside her laughed. “Your earning a lot of money today!”

Another gold piece hit the rest with a cascade of clinks. Ke’ri screamed once more. The guardsmen laughed. Lon’qu felt his soul fill with hate. He touched his back where his bronze sword sat among the folds of his clothes. There were five men. He had them, quite literally, with their pants down. He had faced worse odds on the street. The crux of it however, was that every time he moved his head he felt hot knives dig their way into his skull. He didn’t give it a second thought. He had to move.

One fell with his face forever now stuck in that perverse grin as he waited to ravage Ke’ri once more. Lon’qu realized now that he had no idea how long he was out. It didn’t matter. He had failed to protect her.

The second fell as he was reaching for his blade, surprise flashed in his eyes as he put his hand on his blade. Then he thought no more as his head flew away from the rest of his body. Lon’qu stepped over the decapitated corpse.

Two more had blades in hand as they stepped toward him. One bloomed a rose of blood from the center of his chest before Lon’qu moved the blade to parry the strike from the other guard. The one with a rose blossom stumbled a couple of steps back, and watched as Lon'qu destroyed his friend’s face. He opened his mouth, and blood bubbled from his lips. He fell to the ground dead.

The last man had a nude Ke’ri with a dagger to her throat.

“Stay back! Or I’ll kill her! Help is bound to come!” The short twitchy one managed.

“Who’s going to help you?” Lon'qu said with danger in his eyes as he flicked the blood off of his sword. “You’re the guard.”

“Not a step closer! I will kill her!” The guard threatened. “Put the sword on the ground!”

Lon'qu and Ke’ri’s eyes met. They both knew if he put down the sword, they would both die. The guard adjusted his grip on the dagger so that the point was on her neck-- a deadly mistake. She purposely fell forward and impaled herself on the point of his dagger.

Blood blossomed on her neck. She closed her eyes. Lon'qu’s mouth opened in a silent scream. Her body fell to the ground. Her last act was to give Lon'qu the chance to live on.

Lon'qu acted as a man possessed, easily cutting down the last man. He scooped up a dying Ke’ri into his arms.

“You will be fine!” He lied with tears in his eyes. “Let's leave this city. We… we will get that farm with land, and cows, and chickens, and pigs, and--”

“A Pegasus…” Weakly. Barely there. But hope still.

“Yes.” Lon'qu sobbed. “A Pegasus.”

She touched the blood seeping from her wound-- as if shocked it was there. She then caressed Lon'qu’s cheek.

“Love… You… Lon…”

Her hand fell, leaving a streak of blood down Lon'qu’s cheek. The world turned watery, and Lon'qu looked at the almost fifty gold pieces beside her.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

“We don't take passengers.” The sailor told him.

“I’ll pay.” He said, throwing 47 gold in a bag to him. Four times the normal fare.

“We are going to--”

“Are you leaving tonight?” Lon'qu interrupted.

“Yes but--”

“Then I don't care. Leave me be.” Lon'qu boarded the ship he chose arbitrarily, to meet his destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may sin on this work. I may just do it. But I swear to all that is holy. I will never write smut of that scene I skipped.


	12. Chapter 11

Ferox is a cold land, and it’s people are tempered by the cold winds that scream constantly past. It is a home for exiles and barbarians, those wary and those brutish. Immigrants almost exclusively come by sea, seeing as a giant wall separates Ferox from their southern neighbors. A history of war and hate as rich as a tapestry is shared between the three neighbors, so some caution is merited. The feroxi people are a melting pot seeing as how they encourage immigrants from the continent of Valm, and even with the harsh stance to immigration from the south, many immigrants from Plegia and Ylisse have made their way to their new, cold home.

The reason why immigration is encouraged to this country is very simple-- their outlook on society. They have formed a meritocracy there-- the leaders lead because they are the best at leading. Not because of their blood. Everyone’s blood is the same shade of red anyway, so they never particularly saw the need to differentiate. 

The best people do the things they are best at. It sounds utopian? In reality there are many at the bottom who never climbed their way up. The were born poor. They died poor. It's the way of life. Some live on the top, and some live on the bottom.

Some spend their time crawling tooth and nail up the social ladder, fingerhold above toehold as they slide their way up. Few make it all the way to the top.

But if any man can do it anywhere, it will be in Regina Ferox. Lon'qu lived in this cold world for a mere two months before catching his chance to begin his climb upward.

That chance had a name: Basilio. The Khan of Western Regina Ferox.


	13. Chapter 12

The day he met him, he was barely alive.

Lon’qu was dying. He knew that he was. The cold reached every bone-- every inch of his body, and now it was threatening to corrupt his soul. He felt it. The cold finger of winter tracing it’s path down from his extremities to his core.

He kept moving, looking around in the dark for any sort of fire or shelter he could find. He eventually found it, a flame in a back alley that showed another simple way to survive.

When he approached the fire, he noticed a man with an open bottle of liquor at his side. He looked like a bum but for the giant axe that lay to his right side. He raised an eyebrow at the boy approaching his source of warmth.

“Winters are colder here than what you are used to?” When Lon’qu didn’t answer, he prompted him with a: “Well boy?”

“Yes.” Lon’qu managed. “Quite.”

“I can tell because your coat doesn’t have any fur on it.” The man laughed. “Fucking southerners.” He took a swig. “Always underestimating the bite of Feroxi winters. If I hear another southerner complain about the chill, I will just tell them to kiss my brown feroxi--”

A scream cuts between his words like a knife. It is the noise of surprise from a woman being grabbed suddenly. The man before him sobered immediately. Lon’qu was already running. He needed to get to that woman. He heard that scream before. He could stop it this time he could--

Three burly men filled the alleyway, covering the weapon triangle with their arms. The one wielding an axe held a girl of around twelve years on his shoulder. Her pink hair was flying around creating a screen like a sunset.

“You should be honored that a common girl like you has caught Lord LeBrauch’s eye.” One of them growled at her.

“I need to get back to my troop!” The girl shrieked.

“Honey,” The one wielding a lance extended a hand. “Don’t even say that! I wish I was marrying Lord Lebroach!” He chuckled. “You won’t have to work another day in your life!”

“I don’t want to get married! I don’t eve--” The girl started to say before Lon’qu cut in.

“You heard the woman.” Lon’qu growled. “Put her down.”

“This isn't your affair.” The one with a sword drew his. Lon'qu drew his blade as well. The man laughed.

“That glorified pigsticker may have been impressive wherever you came from,” It wasn't. “But this is a Chonsineese blade. You might as well be wielding air.” The man chuckled.

Lon'qu said nothing. He just looked at this man And his blade. Lon'qu was quite partial to that style himself. It was designed for making things quick.

“How about you keep your nose out of our affairs, and I won't use this blade to slit yo--” He was cut off by Lon'qu’s pommel going right into his face. Blood trickled down from his nose as he collapsed to the ground.

“I got tired of your talking.” Lon'qu offered as explanation.

The man with the axe as well as the man with the lance faced him with shock. The pink haired girl scurried off somewhere once she was dropped.

“I do like this blade.” Lon'qu commented as he picked it up. Balanced, curved slashing edge rather than the stabbing tool he had now. It would complement his style better for certain. “I think it's mine now.”

“I think you can suck my feroxi co--” He was cut off once again. 

“When will you learn?” Lon'qu asked him, wiping the blood off of the pommel of his new sword. The man with the axe charged. He raised his axe to the stars, but struck nothing but air as Lon'qu cut new, red ribbons into his skin. He finally brought his silvery axe to block, and Lon'qu’s old sword shattered. He took a look at the broken end, and then jammed it into the axeman’s shoulder. That man was now bleeding from several minor lacerations, and a stab wound resulting from a broken sword. Lon'qu nodded his head before taking a step back-- running straight into the knife blade of the man who’s sword he had stolen.

“Never turn your back on yo--” His head flew from his body.

“Be silent.” Lon'qu commented. The lancman shook his head in shock from the sight of his friend’s body being relieved of it’s head.

“Let's just get out of here with the gi-- where is the girl?”

“I put her down right here.” The axeman muttered.

“We didn't have her tied up! She could be anywhere!” The lancman tossed his spear to the ground.

“Don't worry about her you dastards.” The man from earlier commented. “She’ll be just fine, no thanks to you.” 

“Is that?” The one with the lance breathed.

“Basilio.” The other confirmed, the same awe stuck in his voice.

The man now stood to his full height-- a good two feet beyond Lon’qu’s own. His brown bald head shone in the lowlights of the bar beside them. His eyepatch covered his left eye-- strange, wasn’t it covering his right earlier? Lon’qu decided this was not the time to comment. Basilio lifted his axe onto a single shoulder with a grin.

“Yeah. Who was that fancy Lord you work for? LeBroach?” Basilio cracked his neck. “Perhaps I should pay this pedophile a visit!” 

“Pedophile? Our lord is n--”

“He was kidnapping a girl perhaps of twelve winters, and forcing her to marry him, assumably based off of nothing but lust.” Basilio shook his head. “Fucking pedophile.”

“Our Lord is not much older! Only by--” The Lance wielder protested.

“I suppose the age doesn’t matter as much as intent.” Basilio hefted the axe into a two handed grip, and slammed it into the swordsman’s headless corpse. The sickening crunch resounded through the alley.

A little voice spoke up while this was going on, making Lon’qu jump. It was the pink haired girl looking at him and gesturing toward her.

“Um…” She intoned. “Mr. Basilio told me to come get yo-- Eep!” She squeaked. “Y-you’re hurt…” A new resolve shone in her eyes. “W-we need to get you to a healer.”

“This is nothing.” He insisted, feeling his heartbeat accelerate as the pink haired girl stepped towards him. He saw flashes of Ke’ri screaming-- this girl’s inevitable fate if she drew too near… “Don’t come any closer.”

“Um…” She shuffled her feet. “Alright…” She glanced over at Basilio who was attempting to buy them some time. “J-just follow behind me…”

Lon’qu followed at a respectable distance, and his hearing was filled with a pair of thuds. That had to have been the old man sacrificing himself-- there was no earthly way he could have moved that axe that quickly.

Him and the girl returned to the now dying fire in that alley. She turned to him and muttered her thanks. Lon’qu said nothing in reply, instead choosing to remove the knife. The bleeding doubled in intensity. Lon’qu lightly tapped the back of his head against the wall. He was going to die. He was going to die. He was going to--

He felt the sting of a thousand bees as he felt his wound closed. He winced, his eyes snapped open, and he sat up to see the girl with a concoction in her hand-- expensive stuff-- pouring it onto his open wound.

“There… um… you should be fine…”

“Stay away from me.” Lon’qu snapped.

“What have I done to you?” Olivia muttered.

Lon’qu had to think of a convenient lie. He couldn’t say that he saw her getting raped and killed in horrible ways if she continued to be near him. He couldn’t say that the thought of that happening to any other woman drove him physically away from contact with the fairer sex. He had to come up with some other excuse.

“Women make me… uncomfortable.” Great Job Lon’qu. That would clear up all sorts of doubts. Instead of looking at him skeptically, the girl laughed.

“You’re just shy!” She continued to giggle. “I’m shy too, so there is no reason to hide it!”

“I-I’m not shy woman!” Lon’qu protested, the girl just continued to giggle. That was when Basilio reentered.

“You have to be more careful Olivia.” He lectured her, wagging a finger as his bloodstained battle axe sat on his back. “This isn’t the first time I’ve saved you from kidnapping.”

“N-nobility this time.” Olivia nodded as if to reaffirm herself of something. “I-I think it is about time for me to stop wandering.”

“My door is always open, and there is always room at my table for you!” Basilio laughed uproariously. “Noble fops will think twice of trying to steal you from me!”

“I wouldn’t want to impose…” Olivia muttered.

“Impose? Impose she says! As long as you practice your dancing in my home, it will be a cheerier place!” The pink haired girl gasped, her mouth forming a small o. Lon’qu grinned at the sight, his smile falling at the memory of screams-- keep her at arm's length. For her sake.

“I-- I am not even good…”

“With the passion you have? I would have to be blind in both eyes to not see your potential!” Basilio gave another belly laugh that shook the cobblestones.

“Alright.” Olivia giggled once more. Basilio moved on to stand in front of Lon’qu.

“And you. Boy.” Basilio pointed. “From the way you just fought, I have a job for you.” Basilio flashed a smile. “What’s your name southerner?”

“My name is Lon’qu. Do not make me repeat myself.”


	14. Chapter 13

Basilio left Lon’qu with dozens of jugs of water, and one split clean in half.

“I saw your fighting style before.” Basilio nodded. “You have speed, and sometimes that is more important than force.” Lon’qu muttered something, he couldn’t remember what. “If your axe sinks two inches into the other man’s skull, or chop the man in half, what is more dead?”

“The man in half. I can use the display to intimidate his comrades.”

“True.” Basilio nodded. “Sadly for you, you don’t have that kind of force behind your swings.” Basilio raised an eyebrow. “But you are swinging for it, and sacrificing your inherent speed, and a lot of your potential stamina in the process. You must be controlled.”

“I have control.” Lon’qu sputtered.

“Then fight like it!” Basilio snarled. “Stop fighting like a berserker who has just gotten his dick chopped off.” Basilio shook his head. “You don’t have the raw strength suited for it.”

“What does control have to do wit--” Lon’qu started to speak.

“Strike me.” Basilio ordered. “Kill me with your sword.”

Lon’qu figured that this was a practical demonstration, so he drew his blade and slashed out at air. As expected. Basilio had somehow made his way behind him, and held his axe level with the side of his neck.

“Control your strikes.” Basilio said, putting his axe onto his shoulder. "You will gain more speed, more stamina, and more survivability as a result.” Basilio cracked his neck and cut through one of the jars-- it did not shatter as expected, but rather came apart in two clean halves. “Practice on all of these jars, then come inside for dinner.” Basilio told him. “Make sure the sword is sheathed when you do. Steel only comes out in there in emergencies.”

“Why are you doing this?” Basilio stopped as he was headed for the entrance when he heard this question.

“I may not act it,” Basilio gave one of his laughs. “But I am the Khan of west Regina Ferox.”

“I could tell from the size of the house.” Lon’qu commented. “And how many expendable water jugs you have. Don’t play coy and waste my time. What role would you have me play?”

Basilio said nothing for a moment, just breathed a couple of times.

“I lost my long time champion last year.” Basilio chuckled and shook his head. “Something about him wanting to pursue other jobs in other places-- see the world or some nonsense.” Basilio laughed. “The way I saw it, he thought he was getting too old. And maybe he was right.”

“You would have me be your champion.” Lon’qu deadpanned.

“As you are now? Certainly not!” Basilio laughed. “Consider yourself a champion in training.” Basilio began to head inside. “Now get to practice!”

Lon’qu did not go inside that night.


	15. Chapter 14

Lon’qu had been trying to find a place to train that was in the outdoors now that winter was starting to abate, however the winds and snow of Ferox defied all reasonable explanation. Basilio had to say this on the subject:

“I suppose you ARE a southerner even if you don’t act it most of the time.” Basilio rubbed the back of his head. “Think of the winter being nine months long, and the spring only three months before giving way to winter once more.” He sighed at this. “I suppose freezing your arse off out in the cold ain’t going to help you train.” Basilio cracked his neck once more. “Maybe you could negotiate with Olivia to share her practice space.”

When Lon’qu asked her:

“Absolutely not!” Olivia shrieked.

“I find this situation just as vexing as you.” Lon’qu half to assure her, half to push her away further emotionally. “Perhaps we could negotiate a schedule?”

“Erm… Most days I am practicing as much as I can… twelve to eighteen hours…” Olivia pushed her fingers together.

“That is… about as long as the time I train with my blade…” Lon’qu sighed.

“I… I don’t want you watching me, and… you… don’t… want to be near me.” Olivia pointed out. “So it would probably be best if we… didn’t train in the same room.”

So now he was searching for a place of his own once more. Perhaps he could train under the tree in the garden. That would provide some protection from the snow. Physical exercise would probably keep him warm. For a time. Until he froze to death.

Then he saw it. A larder of some sort with a chain around the entrance. It was curious. When he asked Basilio about it, he looked askance. 

“That old place? Just filled to the brim with relics of my traveling days.” Basilio’s eye misted over. “A few axe blade shards, some trinkets, a few dried thumbs--”

“Dried thumbs.” Lon’qu belayed his surprise by blinking a few times.

“Back when I killed regularly, that was what I took as proof. Their right thumb. A signature of sorts. Flavia took a tooth. She has some rotten ones.” Basilio looked at Lon’qu,who seemed all but to the trained eye calm. The way he pursed his lips gave it away for Basilio. You just had to know how to look. He was disturbed.

“Maybe it’s a Feroxi thi--”

“No. Gang members used to take… less savory cuts of the men they killed.” Lon’qu explained.

“Ah. Yes. But then what about the women?” Basilio scratched his bald, shiny head.

“They didn’t kill them. Or at least didn’t openly brag of it. The other gang members would probably murder him for the waste.” Lon’qu grimaced. “Thumbs are a… better thing to collect in my opinion. Less implied by it.” Basilio stretched to belay his own disturbed emotion now.

“Well… I suppose if you don’t mind the thumbs… You are welcome to train there. If that was what this was all about!” Basilio’s smile fell. “Let’s just talk about your past later.”

“There is nothing to tell.” Lon’qu lied.

Lon’qu trained by candleflame, light dancing along the walls and across his toned body. It imitated his dance, flowing strikes reaching exactly where they were supposed to. So did the candlelight-- it danced along the dozens of thumbs on the wall.


	16. Chapter 15

Olivia approached Lon’qu with a determined look on her face one day.

“Teach me.” She insisted.

“I am no teacher.” Lon’qu replied.

“Basilio won’t teach me either! Something about how proper ladies don’t wield axes.” Olivia muttered. “He says I don’t have the strength for it.”

“You are a dancer. Your strengths lie elsewhere.” Lon’qu claimed, meaning literal muscle groups. “Now leave me be woman!”

“I don’t need to know a lot!” Olivia pleaded. “Just enough to fend off kidnappers. I-I promise that if you teach me this then I will never bother you again.”

Lon’qu wanted her to bother him. Lon’qu wanted her to break him of this spell-- this dream and have him wake next to Ke’ri in their farmhouse. Lon’qu wanted Olivia to break reality for him, to make it so women were never so easily captured and abused. He wanted her to mend his soul, to make it so that he wasn’t afraid of losing someone else again. She could do none of these things. Therefore Lon’qu had to push.

“Alright.” Lon’qu agreed. “Get a sword, and I will teach you what I can.”

Olivia scurried up the steps and out of the cellar.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

The next day, Olivia came down the steps with an oblong package wrapped in a spare blanket.

“Um… Basilio had a surprising number of these.” Olivia unwrapped a shorter, but serviceable iron sword. “He… erm… seemed happy that I was taking lessons from you.”

“He worries about you.” Lon’qu pointed out. “You just aren’t strong enough to wield an axe, or he would probably be pushing me out of the way to teach you himself.”

“I-I am not that special!” Olivia shouted. Lon’qu used a finger to clear out the ringing in one of his ears.

“Stand over there.” Lon’qu got into position. “Mirror me.”

She was not bad at learning the forms-- her training as a dancer served her well. Learning the basics of swordplay was like learning the basics of dancing. She mechanically mimicked the forms until they began to flow like a dance. Whirling and swinging blades in this enclosed space with the candlelight dancing in the background had a dangerous beauty to it. Like open flame-- two bonfires danced in that space, mirrors placed counter to one another so that eternity is glimpsed on their surfaces. 

Then they stopped. Lon’qu nodded to her with reluctance.

“Your form is sloppy woman.” He snapped.

“Eep! Erm, well… I was only following you.”

“You are truly impressive.” Lon’qu sighed reluctantly. “You know all the forms, now it is just a matter of practice. I have no more that I can teach you.”

“Thank you?” Olivia cocked her head.

“With dedicated effort…” Lon’qu sighed and looked up. “I am sure that you would be able to equal me-- perhaps even surpass me.” 

“I--” Olivia shook her head. “I think I’ll stick to dancing.”

“Very well. Now leave me woman.” Lon’qu snapped.

Olivia grabbed ahold of Lon’qu’s hand, a bold move considering her shy nature.

“Lon’qu I jus--”

There she was. Ke’ri. Before the entire guard of Chon’sin. The pile of gold rose to astronomical heights as she screamed. The laughter came like waves in a gale. Lon’qu wanted to run. Lon’qu wanted to hide. Lon’qu wanted to block this from his eyes. Lon’qu wanted to hide his ears from the screams. The screams followed him-- they were everywhere. Inside him. Lon’qu looked over to Ke’ri’s face, and instead saw a pink haired dancer in her place.

“Lon’qu? Lon’q--” Olivia was shaking him.

“LEAVE ME WOMAN!” He roared, pushing her towards the cellar door. She scurried like a pink haired mouse up the steps.


	17. Interlude: A page from Mirel's Journal

Lon’qu’s fear of women is not so cut and dry as it seems. According to a book written by my esteemed Mother, it is a visceral reaction to the sight of a woman. Lon’qu developed those symptoms, termed Gynophobia over time due to his psychological rejection of women. Neither is it Misogyny seeing as his actions are taken in preservation of the woman.

Rather it is due to chronic self esteem issues.

He cannot protect people, so therefore they are better off staying away. He is a bad omen, sent to bring misfortune to all near him. 

So then why women? Why not men as well? (A notable recluse with similar tendencies is a man by the name of Gerome.) For that question, we turn to the lands of his origin. On the street, women were not viewed as people, but commodities. Commodities to be traded and sold at the whims of the male counterpart. This counterbalanced with Lon’qu’s realization that women have personality beyond sexuality led to something I have termed protector’s syndrome. He disregards the fact that the fairer sex do in fact have the capability of protecting themselves.

This diagnosis combined with post traumatic stress disorder from the Ke’ri incident leads to an intriguing dichotomy. The protector’s syndrome counterbalanced with the idea that he is too weak to protect leads to the insidious thought that he is the greatest threat to women himself. Hence his isolation.

It also explains his other quirks. His distaste of flattery (He is not worth the praise,) his offence at others questioning his sword proficiency (he does that enough himself,) and how his gynophobia is not present with opponents on the battlefield. The other notable exception this explains is Nowi. Lon’qu never considered her a potential companion, so his anxiety never manifested. (Perhaps her Manakete heritage is also a factor.) 

Despite my relative confidence this is in fact truth, it is merely supposition on my part. No matter how viable the hypothesis may be, it is still a hypothesis. This merits further study.


	18. Chapter 16

Basilio climbed down into Lon'qu’s dedicated training space. He noted that Lon'qu had pushed most of the miscellaneous items to the sides of the room. He looked down at Lon’qu, who seemed to be asleep in the center of the room. The smoke of extinguished candles filled the cellar. Basilio tapped the man with his shoe.

Lon’qu sprang up with his blade in his hand, leveling a glared dagger at Basilio.

“When I saw you take that bag of potatoes down here Boy, I didn’t expect you to stay down here for three days straight.” Basilio raised an eyebrow.

“I am going to get stronger.” Lon’qu stated.

“Well, how do you know you are getting stronger?” Basilio laughed.

“I…” Lon’qu considered. “I am getting faster.”

“How do you know Boy? I think that’s just your wishful thinking!” Basilio laughed.

“What are you suggesting?” Lon’qu stood up.

“It’s a bit warmer today.” Basilio commented. “And I have an idea.”

“Don’t be coy.” Lon’qu folded his arms.

“I want you to spar against some of my guardsmen.” Basilio rubbed the back of his head. “They could use the practice, and you could use the gauge for your skills.”

“Alright.” Lon’qu walked towards the steps at the exit. “I could use the experience.” 

Lon’qu examined the guard-- he was a heavily armored lance wielder. Lon’qu clicked his tongue against his teeth. He may be able to run circles around him, but his sword would break before he could get through that outer shell.

“I do not wish to dull my blade Basilio.” Lon’qu sighed.

“You will be using weighted sparring blades.” Basilio handed him a dull bar of steel. Lon’qu supposed that he may well be able to kill with this if he was truly trying. “This man uses a similar fighting style to the woman you will be facing.” Basilio stretched out, and looked towards the helmeted soldier. “Defeat him, and I will officially name you my champion for next year.”  
Lon’qu experimentally swung this new blade a few times. It was poorly balanced compared to the finely crafted blade he kept sheathed at his side. It would work.

“How do I win? I understand that you do not wish me to kill this guard.” Lon’qu settled into a stance.

“Make him yield.” Basilio shrugged. “Simple as that.” With that, Basilio gestured for the battle with the man to begin.

The quarterstaff seemed-- to Lon’qu’s eyes-- to inch forward into a thrust. Lon’qu dodged, moving his sword parallel and above the blunted lance, smashing into a gauntlet. The knight dropped the lance out of his loose grip and winced. Lon’qu used that moment to throw the weapon away from them.

That’s when a veritable wall of steel threw him backwards. The knight had charged forward with his shield leading the way. Needless to say, Lon’qu had no experience with fighting against this piece of equipment that served both an offensive and defensive function. He rose, and watched the knight. He merely stood, waiting for Lon’qu’s move. Lon’qu reasoned that this wall of a soldier would withstand any blows he threw at him. So he picked up the quarterstaff from the ground and swung it into a spin at the knight’s legs. The shield went low, so Lon’qu sprung high-- over the shield and struck the knight’s helmet. It did no real damage, but it spun around blocking the vision of the knight, while simultaneously exposing a scrap of skin at the base of the neck momentarily. A moment was all he needed.

“Yield.” Lon’qu said, pressing the mock blade against the base of his neck. A hollow cry for mercy resounded from the interior of the helmet.

“Perhaps…” Basilio looked at the man. “If you had fastened your chin strap, that would not have happened.”

“Yes Khan Basilio!” The man saluted, but sounded hollow and pathetic through the steel.

“If this is what I must face, I wish to face it with all of my skill once more.”

“Oh? I’m helping this one train to fight her?” The man in the armor removed the helm revealing… her true gender. “Raimi doesn’t wear a helmet during battle.”

Lon’qu was uncomfortable at this realization. He did not wish to fight this woman any further. His entire being was rejecting the idea-- but it was required of him. It wasn’t as if he was killing this woman.

“Is he always this tense Khan Basilio?”

“It tends to be worse around women.” Basilio informed her.

“That is…” She struggled for a moment. “So… CUTE!”

Lon’qu just wondered what in Grima, Naga, or any other deity's name she just referred to him as.

“I don’t think the boy appreciates that!” Basilio laughed along with her.

“Sorry, sorry.” She deepened her already tenor voice mockingly. “It is super manly to be afraid of women. Only the manliest of men ca--” A burst of laughter interrupted her own thoughts.

“It matters not what you think of me.” Lon’qu said, leveling his blade once more. “Help me grow stronger.” The woman sighed.

“Is that an order Khan Basilio?” The woman pouted girlishly. “I wanted to help him before, but he isn’t reacting to hardly anything I say! He’s no fun!”

“Yes, it is, Sheila.” Basilio said, with a solemn brow. His face broke into a sudden smile at the next statement. “Although you should probably keep antagonizing him. It should be good for the boy!”

“WOO HOO!” She posed with her lance in a sort of mocking victory.

Lon’qu couldn’t help but wonder what he had gotten himself into.


	19. Chapter 17

Sheila was a firecracker. All light and noise. This woman soon became his dedicated sparring partner. A contrast to his quiet demeanor, she would not stop talking. It wasn’t as if he enjoyed the noise, but over time he grew more acclimated to her presence. At least she determined it wise to keep her distance from him despite her verbal teasing.

One day, she decided to reveal why she was the best dedicated sparring partner Lon’qu could ask for around the hundredth time that they fought. She was stretched out on the snow panting like a dog.

“Man.” Huff Huff. “You’re good Cooties,” She huffed out the nickname she had given him. “But I don’t know if you can beat my Mom.”

“Is your mother skilled?”

“Should be. She’s the champion of east Ferox.” Lon’qu raised an eyebrow at this statement.

“You are helping me defeat your mother?”

“No.” Sheila chuckled. “I’m helping it be a fair fight.” She sat up with a sigh. “You weren’t going to last ten seconds as you were.”

“So you do not think I am going to win.” Lon’qu sighed.

“I think you’re going to end up a Qu pancake if you let her shield bash you.” 

“I have not let that shield touch me since our first bout and you know it.” Lon’qu grumbled.

“Facts are facts, Cooties.” Sheila stuck her tongue out at Lon’qu. “Ignore it at your own peril.”

“Fine.” Lon’qu snapped.

“Oooh! Touchy!” Sheila giggled. “If only you were fun and bantered with me.”

“I do not banter.” Lon’qu rolled his eyes.

“Such a shame.” Sheila wiggled her eyebrows. “If you did, girls would like you a whole lot more.”

“That is something I do not wish for, nor will I ever wish for.” Lon’qu leveled a glare at the woman. 

“So you are gay?” Sheila gasped. “I know a couple of guys in my unit who I co--”

“Uninterested.” Lon’qu interrupted.

“I don’t know what I expected, but you continue to be no fun whatsoever.” Sheila pouted. “But wait, are you gay?” She gasped. “Can you be my gay best friend?”

“When I said uninterested, I meant I was interested in no one.” Lon’qu sighed.

“Boo!” Sheila gave a large harumph. “Why do I keep you around?”

“You don’t. Basilio keeps you around. I think I will ask the same question of him.”

“That’s close to banter… You know what? We’ll work on it.” Sheila stood up. “Breaktime is over for us. Let’s see how long you can keep that win streak going.”

As the clashing of renewed struggle filled the courtyard, unbeknownst to them they had an uninvited viewer of the proceedings. Olivia turned back into the house, and muttered to herself:

“So that’s the sort of girl Lon’qu likes…”


	20. Chapter 18

One day, about two weeks after she had arrived, Sheila came down to his training area. She wasn’t in armor, which was odd for Lon’qu. He had only ever associated with her when it was time to test his skills. Her blonde hair was done up in a messy ponytail, and her ever present smile seemed to have vanished into nothing.

“I was called back to the wall.” Sheila chuckled without mirth. “Apparently Plegian bandits are attacking on the Ylissian border claiming to be from that country.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Mom needs someone she can trust to watch the Plegian side.”

Lon’qu could feel himself shaking. His hands. They were vibrating as if some vile magic were coursing through and pumping discomfort. He wanted her to leave him-- He wanted her to stay. He took a deep breath to calm himself. He said nothing.

“Lon’qu… this is goodbye.” Sheila cocked her head. “Did all of that time that we spent together mean nothing?”

She wanted him to say something. If he spoke, Lon’qu did not trust his voice to stay steady. He had to say something to her-- to bring some sort of closure to their companionship.

“Understand, woman.” Lon’qu’s voice wavered slightly. “Your skill is truly enviable. I hold you in the utmost regard. You will be difficult to replace.” He clamped up. He did not trust himself to speak any farther.

Sheila understood. She embraced him, and Lon’qu felt himself stiffen up at the sudden contact.

“From anyone else, I would call that the most half assed goodbye I had ever heard.” Sheila released him with a smile. “From you, those words mean the world. Because I know you mean them.”

“Hmph.” Lon’qu rolled his eyes. He looked away to hide the slight blush he got from her words.

“It’s a shame you have to fight my mother.” Sheila commented as she headed up the stairs. “Now I don’t know who I should root for. Ah well. I just hope it’s a good fight.” Lon’qu heard the wind of the outside air for a moment, then nothing once more. Sheila had walked out on him. Now he felt more alone than ever.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Sheila’s replacement, Marcus, was an insult to Lon’qu’s skill. If it seemed like Sheila’s lance moved at a snail's pace, Marcus’s spear did not move at all. The only thing that he had going for him was his supply of javelins, which he through regularly during their bouts. That gimmick did not even work once before Lon’qu closed the distance and forced his surrender.

Every single time. The bouts rarely lasted for more than ten seconds, the longest was twenty five when Lon’qu broke his sword lashing out at him. Even still, Lon’qu disarmed him and placed the spear tip at his throat.

Lon’qu was livid. He did something that he rarely bothered to do-- never voluntarily-- he stomped up the stairs within Basilio’s home and knocked on his study door. A muffled noise came from within, Lon’qu wasn’t sure if it was permission to enter or not. He entered anyway.

Basilio’s head jerked up, he scowled at the sudden intrusion. He cracked his neck and leveled a gaze at Lon’qu.

“I know you wouldn’t disturb me unless it was urgent boy.” Basilio’s eye flashed. “So I will excuse it this once.”

“Marcus is unacceptable.” Lon’qu blurted. He stood his ground against the sudden surprise that flashed across Basilio’s face.

“Oh?”

“He is unskilled and weak. That or he is just lazy. If that is the case, then I would despise him rather than simply understanding the necessity of his departure.” Lon’qu stared back. “I need a partner to spar against that won’t fall so easily as he does.”

“You feel strongly about this.” Basilio laughed. “I don’t think you have said so many words to me in the past month!”

“You wish me to grow stronger. Yet you pit me against a weakling. Explain.” Lon’qu raised an eyebrow.

“He isn’t weak. He’s just proof you are growing by leaps and bounds.” Basilio roared a gale of laughter. 

“Hmph. Explain. You are being coy again.”

“That man you were fighting? He is the best armored spearman in the city guard.” Basilio smiled. “I once saw him defeat everyone else in his battalion.”

“You need better soldiers.” Lon’qu shook his head.

“Be that as it may, this is his final assignment before he gets promoted to the wall.” Basilio nodded. “It just seems to me that Raimi better watch herself. The west Khan is going to reign supreme once more.”

“Are you truly referring to yourself in the third person?” Lon’qu sighed. “I thought you were more intelligent than that.”

“I’ll alternate between different opponents for you every half month.” Basilio nodded. “Then the two weeks before you face Raimi, I’ll face you myself.”

Lon’qu felt the corners of his mouth turn up into a grin. Facing off against Basilio? The west Khan himself? He would be a fool to pass up this opportunity. 

“I’ll look forward to it.”


	21. Chapter 19

Lon’qu destroyed opponents. He saw what Basilio was saying about Marcus being “Skilled” because things only got worse from there. Lon’qu was beginning to realise that armored foes make up for their lack of competence with the fact that they are a moving wall of steel. Lon’qu supposed that this ploy would work against lesser foes-- like bowmen who do nothing but strike from a distance. Arrows would just bounce off of that armor plating. But against him? Tortoises can’t get up once they are flipped over in their shells. 

Lon’qu could feel himself growing complacent. He could not have that. He fought with full force in every bout, no matter their amount of skill. He would. No matter what. He fought for...

What was he fighting for?

Lon’qu almost stopped mid swing. What was he fighting for at this point? He had nothing. Was he fighting just to fight? 

No. He had no will. He fought who Basilio told him to. He had no will, therefore he was a weapon at the disposal of the wielder. Basilio pointed. He stabbed and slashed the target to oblivion. It was simpler that way. He didn’t have to think about the morality of his decision. He didn’t have to think about the consequences. The consequences of his action were not his fault. He was just a weapon. Then no one’s deaths were his fault. Lon’qu the person died the day Ke’ri did. He was only a weapon.

And weapons don’t feel. Then why did he still feel guilt? He didn’t. He couldn’t. He was unfeeling. Unflinching. He…

Could only lie to himself for so long.

He was only human. Not some killing machine. He could only drain the emotion from himself to a certain extent. If only he did not feel at all. That would allow him to be a weapon. That would allow him to stare a woman in the eyes without seeing them take Ke’ri’s fate. But if he felt nothing… then he would forget. He was the only one who could remember. He was the memory of her.

Then what did he want? He didn’t even know.

He would fight. For now. Until he knew for certain what he truly desired. Be it a week or two decades. However long it took.


	22. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No excuse for my absence is good enough. The important thing is I am back and determined to finish this. However long it takes.

The day came that Basilio promised. The day where Lon'qu would finally see the famed West Khan in action. He would fight against him and live-- a distinction that not many could claim judging from the number of thumbs on his walls.

There wasn’t a doubt in Lon’qu’s mind. His speed. His strength. He was large, and yet able to dodge any attack he threw at him. He was the best. He was worth his admiration. He trounced him that day. He trounced him so many times that he couldn’t even count them. Lon’qu never stood a chance.

But it wasn’t until afterward that he finally understood what the old oaf truly meant to him.

“I think you’re ready boy. You will be my trump card. I’ll finally dethrone her.” Basilio laughed.

“I did nothing but lose to you.” Lon’qu sighed. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Well then allow me to assess your skills. Every guard I pitted against you got their arses kicked. You train ten hours a day every day, and you even taught Olivia how to defend herself enough that she felt confident enough to join her troupe once more.”

“She left?”

“That, my boy, is why you worry me. You are lost in yourself. You will become a peerless fighter, but that will mean nothing if you don’t pay attention to what is around you.”

“I will be fine.”

“Defeat doesn’t only come from blades. It can come from your mind. If you limit yourself from your own potential by telling yourself what you must be… that can defeat you as surely as a blade.” Basilio looked almost nostalgically at the ground. “I knew a man once by the name of Gregor. His skill with a blade was undeniable, and we faced each other for the seat I now hold. The reason I was able to defeat him was because he had convinced himself that all he could ever be was a worthless, drunken mercenary.”

“Your perception of yourself doesn’t change who you are.”

“On the contrary Boy. Your perception of yourself IS who you are. And as long as you consider yourself a failure, you will inevitably become one in some way.” Basilio saw right through him. Right through the strong, silent facade and to his core. Yet…

“I am telling you that you will defeat Reimi tomorrow boy.” Basilio laughed. “Believe in yourself.”

Lon’qu looked down. This man was not only strong, but kind and intelligent as well. He was confident. Lon’qu knew he had to try to walk in a similar path to this man. He was truly his ideal. He knew that he would fail if he fought for himself, but if he fought as an extension to this man…

“I understand that for some reason your self-worth isn’t what it should be Boy, but that is what makes you work as hard as you do. And the work you do makes you as great as you are. If you don’t believe in yourself, believe in your skill. If you don’t believe in your skill, believe in your work. I guarantee you that Reimi doesn’t work half as hard as you.”

It was hard to deny that logic. Lon’qu knew what he had to do. He smiled.

“I am merely a weapon at your disposal. I can adopt your will.” 

“I don’t want you to be a weapon, I want you to be a man.”

“Why does it matter?”

“I can’t consider you my true rival unless you become a true man. Understand?”

It was that moment that Lon’qu realized that if any man could be considered his adoptive father, it would be Basilio.


	23. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally was going to release the first part as it's own chapter, but I think it is too short. The second half was originally planned as the first half of the next chapter-- that made it too long. I am getting to the point where I have written some like two years ago-- the problem is that it was written two years ago. I basically have to rewrite them. So... who knows on how long it will take for the next chapter. Oh, and another note: I would love any constructive criticism/opinions positive or negative that you have on this work. Just... please don't tell me to kill myself. I'll take anything but that.

Basilio was the sort of softhearted man that “adopted” any child in need. Olivia and Lon’qu were just the two most famous examples of this. Many guardsmen that now had families of their own came through Basilio’s care. Many thought it was because of his caring nature. Which is true. Many thought it was because he had the ability to. Also true. Both of these happened to be prerequisites to caring for children at all. Why was Basilio willing to help so many children?

When he was a young man, he had a young woman that he cared for very much. He thought that one day he would ask her to marry him, and they would create a happy family together. Excited for this, he went to consult a local mage who told him that he was unable to have children. Then the young woman became one of the most powerful people in the country-- unattainable. He was heartbroken, and began training until he was even stronger than her-- not knowing that she would have accepted his request at any time. When they both were on the same level, neither had the time to see one another. They also became rivals for power. And so a void began to form in Basilio’s heart. A man so caring had nothing to care for but empty power. Until he found a young man wandering the street. A few years later he became a member of the guard due to Basilio’s care. He did the same for a half a dozen others. He did the same for Olivia when her self esteem would allow her to ask for help. And finally… he did the same for Lon’qu.

In Lon’qu he saw the same void he saw in himself. He watched him grow into a strong man. A strong man who he knew could stand on his own. He saw an emotional, caring man who had been slighted by the world too many times to come out of his shell once more. He tried to love all of his “children” equally, but he always took the most pride in what Lon’qu had done.

Little did Basilio know, Lon’qu was the man that would change Regina Ferox forever.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

The day came that he was to fight Reimi. He rode in a carriage to the arena. It is a massive structure-- built to house a large portion of the population of Regena Ferox. Despite being in the “Summer” there was a cold snap today. Lon’qu could see his breath in the air. He was clenching and unclenching his hands constantly to keep the blood flowing throughout his body. He needed to be able to move quickly. That meant not having his limbs slowed by the cold. He was wearing his favorite fur lined shirt for that end, and cloth pants so that his movements would not be restricted in the least. He needed to end things quickly-- he would need to move around more than her, and his stamina would not hold out. She also most likely knew that due to her greater experience. Lon’qu was not in a good position.

Two men stood in the front of the arena. They appeared to be taking bets. On the board appeared to be times, and odds next to that. The odds ran from thirty to one to one to one. The times ran from five seconds to two minutes. They weren’t just betting against him, they were betting on how long he would last.

A woman stood in front of the men and appeared to be negotiating. Lon’qu was-- he recognized that blonde hair. He got out of the carriage and watched.

“What are the odds of the challenger winning?” She asked, looking up at the board.

 

“Considering the fact that he has zero advantages, we will say 100 to 1.” The first said.

“I want to bet that the match lasts longer than ten minutes, but the challenger wins. Can we call that a thousand to one?” Sheila gives a winning smile.  
“Sure.” The man snorts. “How much are you laying down for it?”

“A gold piece.”

“You really are a strange one.”

“I wouldn’t want to beggar you.” The man snorts in response to this.

“You seem confident.” The other man writes the newly negotiated scenario on the board, along with the odds.

“I think you are underestimating the challenger.” This makes the man laugh aloud.

“Reimi has reach, defenses, experience, skill, and instinct on this boy. You obviously know very little about it. Leave the odds to the professionals.”

“Yes.” Sheila deadpans. “I would know less about this than you.”

That statement made Lon’qu grin.

“Thanks for the gold piece kid!” The man shouted at her.

She merely waved back at the man, sighting Lon’qu and motioning for him to walk with her.

“How much did you see?” Sheila asked.

“Enough.”

“Don’t get it twisted Cooties.” Sheila sighed. “I personally still think either one of you can win. But betting on 1000 to 1 odds when I know they are 1 to 1 is a good bet in my opinion.”

“I understand. You probably wouldn’t have betted against your mother otherwise. But why only one gold piece?”

“It’s all fun and games until you beggar a bookie.” Sheila sighs. “I don’t want to make someone lose all of their potential profit just for me to prove a point.”

“The five minutes contingency?” Lon’qu askes.

“That one is a no brainer. It will take you at least that long to find a gap in her defenses, and she won’t be able to hit you until your stamina runs low.” Sheila chuckles. “Five minutes is a conservative estimate. I feel sorry for anyone who will be recording it.”

“Just so you know, I won’t be trying to win your bet for you. I am going to win for myself.” Lon’qu looks away from her.

“As I would expect.” She grins at me. “Do your best.”

Lon’qu turns in to his first fight against Raimi— captain of the army at the wall, and Flavia’s champion.


	24. Chapter 22

The battle with Raimi was not the only thing going on— although it is understandably the only thing that is recorded. Before the battle there is an entire festival with a single elimination tournament for five to eight, nine to twelve, and thirteen to eighteen year olds. Lon’qu knew that a lot of the “experts” believed that he should be in the teenager tourney. The issue was that he wasn’t one hundred percent sure on his age, as he had no means of verifying it. That wasn’t even including the fact that he had no intention of exhausting himself before the all important fight. The “experts” also believed he shouldn’t be fighting Raimi. As a result, he mostly dismissed them.

After prizes were given to the victors of the smaller tourneys, a few of the guardsmen put on a showcase of a formal ceremony that just seemed impractical to Lon’qu. Something about placing the banner of Regina Ferox over the north of the arena rather than the east. Symbolic for power? Power is in the north for a few hours before the match is decided? No one lives in the nor— oooohhhhh.

A strength competition, a running competition, a hand to hand single elimination tournament, prizes for the winners, Lon’qu falls asleep for a bit, wakes up, prizes for another tournament that he missed entirely, but one that probably didn’t matter. After another four hours of various games and revelry it was time.

“The reigning champion of Regina Ferox, the winner for the past three years, her overall record stands eight and eight, here she is, the East’s representative: Raimi!”

A blonde woman with a stern glare enters the arena. She looked the opposite of her daughter. Where Sheila took pride in her glossy blonde hair, Raimi kept hers cropped short. Sheila’s armor was a bright green, almost as if she wanted to be seen. Raimi wore a dull grey, muted color of armor. Essentially working as a camouflage against the stone and snow of the wall. Lon’qu assumed their personalities were the same. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the idea of Sheila having the same personality as her mother.

Another thing to note was the cheers she received as she entered. Thunderous approval. A familiar face among the unknowns of the previous competitions. Lon’qu rose from where he was seated, and began to move to his entrance— the west.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the challenger! An unknown face hailing from across the sea in Chon’sin. This is his first year as the representative of the west: Lon’qu!”

The commentator pronounced his name wrong. He didn’t particularly care, but it was worth noting that the commentator didn’t care enough to do his research either. He pronounced the second half of his name Ku rather than the customary Chon’sineese pronunciation of Chu. He was being underestimated. That was good.

The second part was the applause for him. Hesitant. Unsure. They were all wondering if the West Khan had gone senile. Lon’qu would be happy to prove them wrong.

A man approaches in a robe of sorts. He speaks in magically amplified voice.

“This is the one thousand, two hundred and fifty fourth annual battle for the power of Regina Ferox. As you all may know, it began when the rival tribes of the east and west wished to unify against the Plegian threat to the south. The two chiefs fought on this spot to decide who would lead. The eastern chief killed the western, and then the next year the western chief’s son killed the eastern. After that it was determined that champions would represent the chiefs to prevent blood feuds. At the thousandth annual tournament it was decided that the duel would no longer be to the death. And here we are at the one thousand, two hundred and fifty fourth. Do you two promise to battle with honor and dignity?”

“I will.” Raimi claimed.

Lon’qu just nodded.

“Then begin!”

Raimi thrusted forward immediately, the man in robes barely managing to get out of the way in time. She impaled nothing but air. She brought back her lance, and it was turned into a quarter stave. The tip was cleanly shorn off by Lon’qu’s sword.

The next strike came from her shield. A wall of steel suddenly lurched forward and hit the air as well. Lon’qu moved around, and attempted to strike at her back— a move that usually brought down armored opponents. The shield came around to block the strike at an almost impossible speed. Lon’qu marveled at her speed. 

They circled one another, each one looking for a weakness to exploit.

Raimi struck first again, using the staff in an overhead strike. Lon’qu’s blade split it in half. She then proceeded to strike out with her shield. Lon’qu went around this and tried to sweep her legs out from under her.

It went about as well as kicking steel can go.

Lon’qu grimaced at the pain, and suddenly was looking at a shield strike from above. He rolled out of the way, and managed to jump on top of the shield in question, pinning it to the ground. He struck out with his blade getting blocked by Raimi’s gauntlet. She responded with a left hook that Lon’qu ducked under. He threw his sword up in the air, and Raimi’s eyes followed it for just a moment.

A moment was all he needed.

Lon’qu used both hands to push Raimi to the ground. Once armored soldiers are on their backs, they are like turtles. Lon’qu picked his sword up off the ground and put its edge against Raimi’s throat.

“Yield.”

“I yield.”

The silent arena suddenly burst out into applause. The guard moved the Feroxi flag to the western side of the arena. The final time was three minutes and twenty seven seconds.

Sheila would complain for the rest of her life that she should have taken the hundred to one odds over the thousand to one odds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pronunciation note: Qu is pronounced Chu in Chinese, and if we take that into account, the etemology of his name is:
> 
> Unlucky’Solitude.
> 
> Yup. It checks out.


	25. Chapter 23

The next months were a whirlwind. Lon’qu became famous overnight. He didn’t let the fame go to his head. Raimi would not be sitting idly, so neither would he. He had to train.

Train he did. He had to. He could never let something like what happened to Ke’ri happen again.

About half a year after his victory over Raimi, Sheila was visiting Basilio and Lon’qu on her way back to her post at the wall. They were sitting outside, eating a small meal.

“When is your birthday?” Sheila asked Lon’qu. 

“What kind of question is that?” Lon’qu deadpanned.

”So you don’t know.”

“That is correct. Now leave me be woman.” Sheila looks thoughtful at this response.

“Let’s make it today!” Sheila smiled.

“Why are you so insistent on this?”

“Birthdays are very important.” 

Lon’qu threw up his hands. “Fine. What day is today?”

“October tenth.” She responds. “Geez, you don’t even know what day it is?”

“I am training.” Lon’qu’s mind was reeling. October tenth. Why October te—

October Tenth was that day. It has officially been a year since he left Chon’sin. A year since…

It was appropriate. That day Lon’qu the waif died, and Lon’qu the warrior was born. He was made into what he is today on that day.

“Alright. Today is my birthday.” 

“Hooray! How old does that make you?”

“One.”

Sheila slaps Lon’qu on the arm in response to this. Lon’qu does some mental math.

“Fifteen.” Sheila’s eyes widen.

“You are young… I am twenty.”

“Seems about right.”

She sticks out her tongue. They continue talking. Fifteen days later, Lon’qu received news that Sheila was killed on the wall. She exploded from the inside out due to a dark mage’s curse. Blood was everywhere.

Lon’qu came to the conclusion that he would make as little contact with women as possible. He was too weak before, and it had gotten Sheila killed. He could let no woman get close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Great. Done. Now if you excuse me, I have to Play Fire Emblem Warriors special edition.


	26. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know people are reading this, I just can't hear them. That's what I get for not posting Chrobin I suppose.

Lon’qu was meteoric. He rose to the top suddenly, and rolled through Ferox like a storm. Even if he did not appear publically, he became one of the most famous people in Regina Ferox overnight through word of mouth. Basilio’s announcement that Lon’qu would be representing him next year was met with resounding approval from the populace. His brooding, quiet, strong manner was extremely popular especially, ironically with women. The manner he adopted to push them away only made him that much more appealing. His strength made him the subject of many an envious glance when he did deign to reveal himself to the public. The second match between Raimi and himself was one of the most heavily anticipated ceremonies ever. 

Lon’qu’s crushing, resounding victory over Raimi that year solidified that his victory was no fluke.

This made the populace look on in awe whenever he made his appearance in public. He was no longer an unknown immigrant, he was Lon’qu. The peerless swordsman. He won again. And again. Five times in a row he won, an almost unheard of feat in all of the annuls of history. He burned brighter and brighter with every victory, seeming to loom larger and larger with every passing day. His success brought on the rumor that Basilio himself feared the day that he would have to face up against his curved blade.

Basilio laughed, and did nothing to dissuade people from believing this rumor. After all-- despite Lon’qu’s hundreds of losses to his axe, he was getting stronger every day… and Basilio was growing weaker. Eventually, not today, but eventually he knew his champion would surpass him.

Lon’qu only grew more distant from reality after Sheila’s death-- the times Olivia visited were spent hidden away as much as possible. It got to the point that the only female he really associated on a regular basis was Raimi, and that was on an annual basis. He was a hermit with a sword he was like his name-- solitude brought on by the poor fortune surrounding him. He truly was like a meteor. Burning bright, but surrounded by nothing but flame.

The thing about meteors… they last only for so long before getting snuffed out.

The thing that put out Lon’qu’s flame-- for a time at least-- was a masked swordsman named Marth. Not through superior skill in arms, but the fact that Marth knew Lon’qu better than he knew himself at the moment. But I am getting ahead of myself. You probably wish to know the circumstances that lead to Lon’qu’s defeat at the hands of this intrepid and mysterious swordsman.

I am all too happy to tell. All too happy.


	27. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for talking with me. I feel better now.

Lon’qu was training in his cellar— in the five years since he began to be Basilio’s champion, he had cleaned the place from a hoarding area of relics to being a sparse room with only two items-- a mattress in the corner, and a weapon rack laden with swords of every variety. He swung his sword-- the only thing he could do right.

Basilio entered his space, only knocking after he had already presented himself to Lon’qu.

“Boy!” He roared in a joking tone. “I need your lazy arse up here!” He climbed back up the steps. Lon’qu sighed and strapped his favorite Chon’sineese styled blade (he has learned that they are called “Killing Edges” only recently,) to his side. He exited the cellar to find a bluenette with a mask standing there.

“Explain.” Lon’qu looked up to Basilio— still a Head and a half taller than he.

“I can explain for myself. I am Marth. I wish to become champion of the west.” A tenor resounded out with the most ridiculous desire that Lon’qu had heard of. He was the champion of the west. Was this upstart saying…

“I challenge you to a duel for this position.” The man pulls a beautifully crafted sword. Lon’qu’s eyes widen— it was fashioned in the same style as the legendary Falchion of Ylisse. This boy was either egotistical or rich, and it was most likely both.

Lon’qu figured that such an upstart would be quickly defeated. No member of nobility would defeat the skill he had payed for with loss. He drew his blade.

“No more small talk?” Basilio joked.

“I have a job to do. It doesn’t involve talk.” Lon’qu got into a ready stance. The snow began to fall in earnest. Lon’qu noticed an odd movement when Marth got into his ready position.

Marth stood like a woman.

Lon’qu supposed that Marth was effeminate. Almost too effeminate. Lon’qu smelled a rat. But why would someone lie about something as stupid as their gender? Lon’qu dismisses the thought immediately. It was his identity he wished to hide.

He wasn’t doing it very well. He was facing him directly, looking him in the eyes. Right into the Mark of Naga. Lon’qu didn’t know much about politics, but he did know a thing or two about bastard children. This one was most likely a half brother to Chrom. He wanted to claim the throne for himself. Lon’qu understood how it felt to not have a place in the world. He felt empathy towards this masked man and this story he had made up for him. It made him almost want to let him win.

Almost.

“Begin!” Basilio shouted, and Lon’qu immediately went on the offensive. His blade whirred and struck, seemingly coming from all angles. The pseudo-Falchion kept up almost miraculously with his dance.

Marth’s fingers… his index and ring finger were the same height. Marth managed to get a step ahead of Lon’qu, leveling his first swing of the night at Lon’qu’s shoulder. He blocked this contemptuously. He noticed his hips— Men’s hips were rarely proportioned like that. Two more strikes are blocked by Lon’qu before he returns to his flurry. Marth is barely able to keep up before he notices it. Through the sweat drenched shirt of his opponent. Chest bindings. Marth was no man. 

She was a woman.

That was the last thing Lon’qu thought before his vision was filled with stars— then darkness.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

He awoke to see Basilio shaking the blue haired, masked “man’s” hand. There was no doubt in his mind. Be her a bastard or some sort of time traveling ancestor or decendant of the Ylissian Royal house, (be that unlikely as it is,) it didn’t matter.

He had lost.

Everything he had worked for was meaningless. All of the hours of training, All of the sleepless nights perfecting his craft undone in an instant. An instant of clarity. Of hesitation. That took away everything from him. He felt old…

He was nineteen. He still had a long life ahead of him. And with this, the meteor’s flames were snuffed out so that people could approach and see that the bright streak was a scarred and badly warped piece of metal. Who could take this and reshape it back into its former glory?

It all begins with purposeful failure, a pink haired dancer, and a fateful duty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene is actually canon due to an Awakening Manga. Although the reason Lon’qu figures out Marth’s true gender is more... boob related.
> 
> I decided to focus less on breast, and more on other factors. 
> 
> I really liked talking with you guys, so feel free to keep in contact! Or not. Just know I am here!


	28. Interlude 2: Where the story is told

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished in record time.

“I’ve never seen you like this honey. You seem so tense and serious.”

“This story is important to me. This is my father we are talking about after all.”

“Your father! But you said this was a story from a different dimension!”

“I told you I was from a different dimension.”

“Yeah, but I thought it was another one of your jokes…”

“I never joke.”

“You’re kidding right? It seems like this is the first time you have been serious about anything in your entire life.”

“I’m serious about you.”

“Aw.”

“You know the story of Chrom and the Shepherds?”

“The legendary fables? You said you were a part of those, and told me to keep it a closely guarded secret. Wait… Lon’qu was a minor character in those tales!” 

“Precisely.”

“So you will be in this tale?”

“Not as prevalent as you think. I don’t wish to retell parts you already know.”

“Mmmm… but I want to hear more about your experiences.”

“That’s… complicated at best. Most of these tales I heard from my father or my… self. Time travel makes everything complicated.”

“So it isn’t you?”

“It is and isn’t. Like I told you, it’s complicated.”

“So… are you going to tell me what this other You ends up doing with himself?”

“It will definitely come up in my tale. As well as where I come in. Along with [Redacted].”

“[Redacted] is a part of this too?!”

“Selena as well.”

“This is overwhelming…”

“Just… don’t tell them I told you? It’s kind of supposed to be a secret…”

“My lips are sealed!”

“Do you want me to continue my story?”

“Well, Corrin said she wasn’t going to put us in the battle tomorrow, so we have all night! Let’s keep going!”

“Well… alright.”

“Yay!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t complain that I am keeping the narrator’s identity a secret. I have cut down Lon’qu’s potential waifu list down to two. You probably could have guessed that from the final sentence of the previous chapter, but this is to solidify that. Also, in regards to genders of Robin and Corrin, the reason I am making Robin male and Corrin Female is actually because of Fire Emblem warriors. I know it is just a side story, but I think it fits their respective personalities better, and it is just… easier? Not that either is going to appear in this story much. I thought I would note the reasoning in case you ask.


	29. Chapter 26

“You want me to be what?” Lon’qu wasn’t quite sure what he had just heard.

“I want you to become my assistant. I should be the one hard of hearing, not you!” Basilio roared in laughter.

“Is this a punishment?” Basilio cocked his head to this question.

“On the contrary boy, this is because I want to keep you around. Your perceptive eye should make you a great statesman.”

“I am not one for diplomacy.” Lon’qu put bluntly.

“Well neither am I, and yet here we both are.” Basilio spread his arms wide. “I’ll get some paperwork for you to become my assistant officially.” Basilio began to hurry of before Lon’qu called after him.

“Basilio.”

“What’s wrong boy?”

“I am unable to perform this duty for you, as I can’t read.”

“You can’t… read.” Basilio sounded back in disbelief.

“It never came up on the street.” Lon’qu replied. Basilio considered this issue.

“I don’t have time to go over the basics with you… Olivia is home.”

“Olivia will not be necessa—“

“GIRL!” He roars in his playful manner.

Olivia had only grown more beautiful with time, and was working proof of Lon’qu’s theory that he was more uncomfortable with attractive women than others. Her luxurious pink hair, her… body that he couldn’t bring himself to look at. Her favorite outfit did not make matters better either.

Lon’qu looked in every other direction but at her.

“Can you teach Lon’qu how to read?” Basilio asked.

Olivia squeaked.

Lon’qu grunted. 

Neither said anything for a moment.

“That’s a bad idea.” They said in unison.

“Maybe both of you will come out of your shell a little as a result.”

Lon’qu and Olivia both could not move their eyes from the ground.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Their first session neither even looked at each other.

The second they managed occasional glances, but still no words.

The third session, Olivia looked at him determinedly.

“You are going to learn how to read.” Olivia said determinedly.

“I am here because I have to be.”

“Are you too uncomfortable to better yourself?” Olivia nervously moved her hands next to one another.

“Reading is unnecessary for a weapon.”

“What if Basilio writes you orders?” Olivia asks. 

“Someone else will read them to me.” Lon’qu points out.

“How will you know if they are lying to you or not?” Olivia shoots back quietly.

Lon’qu says nothing, only hrmphing in response. 

“You need to be able to read.” Olivia maintains. “Remember when I helped you learn how to cut a jar in half?”

“That ended up being an uncomfortable experience for both of us.”

“But it was something you had to learn. And I helped you learn it.” Olivia pointed out. “This is the same.”

“An uncomfortable experience for both of us? I agree.”

“Why do you still have this stubborn pride? You won’t accept help from a woman?” Olivia was working herself up now, her voice growing louder and louder. Lon’qu felt… at peace for some reason. It was easier to face an angry woman than a caring woman. Less to lose. “Your sexist point of view is only dragging you down! You think that it’s going to make me respect you?”

“Sexism? Dragging myself down? Respect? You’re one to talk about those things when you dance on the streets for pocket change in that outfit, when you could be performing on any stage in the country.”

Lon’qu felt a sting across his face. Olivia looked just as shocked as he did. The demure and timid Olivia had just slapped Lon’qu across the face.

“I— I’m sorry, um….” She dropped the book and ran out of the room.

Lon’qu picked up the book, and for the next hour tried to puzzle his way through what the symbols on the page meant. He had no success— no matter how much he puzzled, the letters kept swimming across his vision, dancing around like the woman who had just slapped him. He growled, slammed the book shut, and left.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

The fourth session, Olivia could barely look at him.

“Um… erm… please forgive me!” She extends her arms outward. Lon’qu places his hand in between her and himself— a barrier.

“If you were trying to touch me, I do not appreciate it. As it is you are far too close woman!”

Olivia took three steps backwards. She sighed.

“Basilio told me… about Ke’ri.”

Of all the things Lon’qu was expecting, this was not one of them. He told Basilio of Ke’ri in confidence! He would not stop pestering him about women, and why he would not take one. So he finally caved and told this man whom he owed so much to about the worst day in his life. He received assurances that it would stay between them. The teasing did not stop, but it dulled in intensity.

This development was unacceptable.

If a woman knew his secret, it would lead them to their deaths. Pity leads to familiarity, familiarity to care. Everyone Lon’qu cares about dies in horrible ways. He could not let this woman pity him. She would end up like Ke’ri. Like Sheila.

He was a curse, and Olivia was falling into the trap just the same as everyone else.

“Lon’qu… it wasn’t your fault.”

“Don’t speak as if you know the situation. I promised I would protect her, and I failed because I am too weak. That’s all that matters.”

“Am? What do you mean am? You’re the strongest person I know!” Olivia looked frustrated.

“And yet not strong enough. Now leave me be woman. For your own safety.”

“No! I won’t let you do this to yourself out of a perverted sense of guilt! You said you weren’t prideful. Yet you have pride enough to blame yourself for the horrible actions of others that you have no way to change!” Olivia looked startled again. “Oh… um… I’m sorry…”

“It was my responsibility.” Lon’qu stood, and walked out of the door. “Do not speak of things you could not begin to understand, woman.”

They didn’t begin the process of reading until the fifth session— at an ample distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to make Olivia and Lon’qu’s “supports” happen before the game begins because I am unsatisfied with their supports in general. They still happen, but I think that Lon’qu and Olivia would be slightly more familiar with one another than portrayed in the convos we were given. So I am going to be rewriting them myself. For those who are unaware, I wrote another fanfic titled: “Things That Should Have Been” where I just wrote support conversations. Don’t worry guys, I can do this.


	30. Chapter 27

“What is that?” Olivia asked him. This, according to her, was some kind of quiz.

“A borscht stand.” Lon’qu identified.

“Good. How about that one?”

“Meat on a stick.”

“Good! And that one?”

“Candy Apples.” 

“Excellent!” Olivia smiled at him. “You are picking up on reading quickly!”

“I wasn’t reading anything. I was looking at the food they were serving. Nothing more.”

“Ah! Oh… um… Teaching is rather difficult…” Olivia looks down.

Lon’qu says nothing in response. He merely breathes in the whirlwind of scents that he never took the time for before. He took in the sights and sounds that he wouldn’t before— the color and laughter. The music and the revelry. It was… nice.

Lon’qu was done.

He should be waiting for his turn to face off against this new challenger Flavia had found. Instead he was here. Playing schoolhouse with a woman. Oh how the mighty have fallen.

“Oh how the mighty have fallen.” A burly man with corded muscles and long blonde hair approaches, obviously drunk. “Isn’t that the peerless swordsman Lon’qu? Not so peerless anymore neh?” He laughs maliciously. “Hey girlie, stop running with a failure like him and get with a real man!”

Lon’qu wasn’t sure what was worse— the man pointing out his failings, or the fact that the man thought he was with Olivia.

“I am not with that woman.” Lon’qu affirmed. He was ignored with the next, quiet statement from Olivia taking precedence.

“That failure could still strike you down without drawing his blade.” Lon’qu looked over and saw a fire in Olivia’s eyes that scared him. When she yelled at him, it was nothing like this. Sure she was angry, but right now she looked positively murderous. “That failure has survived things you wouldn’t even begin to comprehend. If he truly was a failure he wouldn’t be here.” Olivia was so angry that she didn’t even have a trace of shyness in her voice. Only quiet rage. “Don’t call him a failure.”

But he was a failure. No matter what she said… he always came back to the same reasons, and his loss to Marth only compounded his own self loathing.

“He seems like a failure to me if he lets a woman fight his battles for him.” The man smirked at Lon’qu.

“Only when the battle isn’t worth my time.” 

“Are you calling me insignificant?” The man cracks his neck.

“I’m not so many words.” Lon’qu agreed. The man looks like he is struggling a bit. Lon’qu is sure the man means to strike him, but he is afraid of the consequences. This makes Lon’qu grin.

“You’re nothing without Basilio. Nothing.” Some might think that was a decisive blow to any ego Lon’qu had left, however Lon’qu had already accepted this fact and the man slunk off like a wounded Tom. 

Lon’qu hadn’t lost anything.

Olivia turned to head back to the arena. “Um… I think the battle is about to start.”

“Woman.” Lon’qu abruptly addresses her.

“...Olivia please?” She looked at Lon’qu pleadingly.

“Why did you defend me?” Olivia’s eyes hit the ground. She says nothing for a moment or two.

“You… are worth defending.” She looks back up with determination.

Out of anything she could have said, this terrified Lon’qu the most.

“I… am nothing. Leave me be!” Lon’qu began to march away. As he did so, he heard Olivia say:

“I’ll defend you even from yourself.”

Little did either of them know… they wouldn’t see each other for another six months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I actually have this planned out to the chapter now, but I still can’t decide on one thing. Should I write smut (eventually?) I decided to put it to a vote on this chapter. Post your thoughts on this chapter. Don’t worry. It will run until the time comes, or passes without smut. I honestly don’t think it will effect the work that much so vote now!
> 
> Also, how do you like the rebranding?


	31. Chapter 28

Everything about Lon’qu’s current situation was embarrassing.

First, when he slunk into the West Khan’s viewing space— Basilio asked him where Olivia was. Lon’qu turned around. He had thought she was behind him. He turns back and shrugs.

“I invited her to watch the match from my balcony…” Basilio grumbles.

“She thinks that she isn’t worth your time.” Lon’qu deadpans.

“I know damn well what she thinks, and you were supposed to bring her here boy!” He roars in his ever playful manner. Lon’qu looks at him unfazed.

“You never gave me that order.”

“It was implied damn you.” Basilio sighs. 

“I will work to pay more attention to the implications of a senile old man.” Lon’qu smirked slightly as Basilio slapped the back of his head.

Lon’qu did not mention it, nor give any outward sign, but the thought of the pink haired dancer saddened him. She was going to die next…

She was getting too close.

Second, when the match started, he heard it. The question: “Where’s Lon’qu?” He couldn’t help but grimace at this.

Third: The Ylissian fighting style made him cringe. Olivia’s fighting style emphasized graceful movement, almost distracting her opponent with beauty. The Feroxi fighting style was about overwhelming brutality, sacrificing stamina for an initial surge of speed and brute strength. The Ylissian fighting style was like some unholy mix of the two. Flashy and heavy strikes made for a good show, but in a real fight they would only slow you down. Jumping into the air and flipping downward blade first seemed like a good way to get yourself killed against a skilled opponent.

Marth hadn’t tried any of those flashy moves on him.

Lon’qu thought about this as the two bluenettes exchanged blows. Lon’qu had developed his own style of blade fighting using the most efficient amount of movement possible rather than putting strength behind his strikes. His own unique twist on the long sweeping strikes of the Chon’sinese style. This meant he could move as quickly as his opponent— or more— and expend less energy while doing so. Thinking back to the fight, Marth was blocking his strikes while almost not moving at all. He hadn’t noticed it at the time because his mind was in overdrive piecing together her true gender, but she was using his fighting style that he developed.

That had to be impossible.

Even Olivia had only learned some basic forms and now fought in a way that seemed more reminiscent of dancing. She did not even fight unless she absolutely had to, so There was no way Olivia took what she learned from mirroring him and taught this woman how to use it down to the smallest minutiae of arm movement. 

He felt like he was missing an important piece. Something that would identify her beyond a shadow of a doubt. Something that had to be staring him in the face. He truly was interested now, it involved him.

Fourth: Marth lost. She was not some sort of peerless warrior. That on its own grated against Lon’qu. But the way she lost is what truly made Lon’qu, and everyone else on the west side let out a groan.

She tripped. She fell flat on her face. There was no glory in that defeat. She fought for a while, then lost to her own clumsiness.

It embarrassed Lon’qu, but then there was another aspect. She knew his style, yet did not use it. She used this Ylissian style instead. So Lon’qu had a theory. She lost on purpose. But why would she do such a thing? He had just been given another piece that fit none of the other pieces he had! Why would she let this man win? They shared the same hair color and brand… the deeper he went into this enigma, the more confused he got. He was still missing a piece. Why would Marth defeat him to become the champion, then promptly lose on purpose to this princeling?

Fifth: Basilio gave him away like cattle. He followed the man to the ground floor before Basilio told him to wait until he mentioned a gift. Basilio greeted the prince with blue hair. Next to him was a stern looking man in armor along with a girl in a yellow dress. Slightly behind them stood a man in a black and purple cloak done in Plegian style. His white hair played a stark contrast to his cloak, and he had eyes that could look right through you.

Basilio said something fairly loudly:

“Before you go, I have a gift for you.” Lon’qu knew that this was his cue, so he entered silently. He noticed that the girl’s eyes widened at the sight of him. He was around two seconds away from taking a step away from her…

“This is Lon'qu, my former champion.” Basilio clapped a hand on Lon’qu’s shoulder. “Not much for talking, mind you, but he's peerless with a sword. As good as Marth, in my mind.” Basilio hesitated for a moment. “To be honest, I can't figure out how Marth bested him so quickly.”

“Marth beat him? But he looks so big and strong!” This woman seemed to be making him especially uncomfortable.

“Away woman!”

“Hey! Wh-what did I say?!” She whined.

Basilio laughed heartily. “Let's just say that ladies tend to put Lon'qu on edge.” He took the hand off of Lon’qu’s shoulder and smiled at the girl in yellow and the prince. “Nonetheless, he is capable. Perhaps he even has the makings of a khan. Consider him West Ferox's contribution to the Ylissean cause.”

“You’re certain about this?” The prince asked.

“He’s your man now.” That statement made Lon’qu wince. The prince seemed to notice this.

“And Lon’qu?” He asked. “You have no objections?” 

He had plenty. He was being given away like cattle to a monarch he didn’t know. But in the end…

“He gives orders, I stab people. I think our roles are clear.”

The one thing that was true across a sea of uncertainty.

“Welcome aboard.” The prince smiled, then turned away. The white haired man still looked through him… as if sizing him up… Lon’qu shuddered. Something about that man disconcerted him. Perhaps it was Sheila’s fate. Yes. Was this a Plegian Dark Mage?

After the Plegian had turned away, Basilio leaned over and whispered in Lon’qu’s ear.

“I want you to watch them. Tell me if they are worth our loyalty, then report back to me. I am relying on you Lon’qu.” Basilio clapped him on the shoulder and laughed.

So Lon’qu was to become a spy then?

This was the final embarrassment on top of everything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a note about “Marth’s” mask. It’s more like Gerome’s rather than what it actually is for the purpose of this fic. I never know how she can actually see out of that thing...


	32. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Turkey day people.

Lon’qu’s first battle was a… surreal experience. Lon’qu was told by Robin to stand inside an empty fort and kill things as they appeared.

Lon’qu thought that this assignment was a waste of his talents, but it was later proven to be very necessary. New enemies were crawling out of the woodwork. Appearing out of nowhere from this fort. Lon’qu was confused by this, but did his duty anyway.

They won that battle, returning to Ylisstol in the glory of victory. The one called Vaike was talking about maybe finding a Plegian woman. His suggestions about what he would do to her bordered on rape. Lon’qu felt very uncomfortable.

They reached the palace, and night fell. Lon’qu found a place to train under the beautiful night sky. A place to clear his mind from thoughts of idiotic blue haired lords, and their even more moronic blonde haired, axe wielding friends, and amnesiac Plegian tacticians whose eyes seemed to look through him.

To clear his mind of the potential fate of a certain pink haired dancer.

He noticed a familiar, blue haired figure enter through a rent in the palatial wall. Lon’qu stopped. Marth.

“You have some explaining to do, Marth.” Lon’qu stood in front of her.

“Oh really?” The woman asked in that disguised voice. “What if I don’t want to tell you?”

“Anyone who can claim to be the future daughter of the royal family has some explaining to do in the very near future.” Lon’qu noted Marth flinching suddenly. “I see that my theory is correct.”

“I cannot afford the time to explain my identity at this moment.” Marth looked back at Lon’qu. “However, I will need your promise that you will not share that theory with anyone else. Especially Ch-- my father.”

“Dropping all pretense?” Lon’qu smirked slightly with pride.

“With you. I still need your assurance that you will not share my--”

“Who would believe me woman?” Lon’qu raises an eyebrow. “Now you obviously have something important to accomplish…”

“Thank you Lon’qu.” The woman smiled at Lon’qu from under her mask for just a moment before she ran off. Lon’qu was left alone-- with one less thing to wonder about. He smiled.

His relief was short lived.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Marth’s purpose here was to thwart an assassination attempt on her father. Her mask, having gotten destroyed in the process, left her face bare. Lon’qu wondered why in the gods’ name that Chrom did not notice the now unobscured mark in her eye. If he did not realize now something was odd, he did not deserve any explanation from Lon’qu. She now stood with the shepherds in a loose circle around Robin, who was now giving orders.

“Chrom, Myself, Ricken, Mirel, and Vaike will hold the right flank. Meanwhile I want everyone who ride a mount on the left flank, pushing forward. Maribelle, you will be providing support to that group.” Robin nods. 

“What about me?” Marth asked, no longer using that absurd disguised voice.

“Protect the door to Emmeryn’s chambers.” Robin pointed at her. “Don’t let anyone open that door. I gave Emmeryn my tome, but I don’t have any idea if she will actually use it or not.”

“Understood.” Marth ran to the entrance of Emmeryn’s chambers. Lon’qu, and Lissa-- the yellow dressed woman were the only ones left.

“As for you Lon’qu, you will be our seemingly weak center, holding the central corridor in front of Marth. Lissa, you need to provide Lon’qu with any healing he needs, but if he falls I want you to run into Emmeryn’s rooms.” Lissa nodded, terrified. “Lon’qu, I want you to hold that position until the right flank has time to crash into the cue waiting to take a turn at you.”

“I am unsure if they will even be necessary.” Lon’qu smirked. Robin laughed.

“If that is true, then I want you to join our defensive position on the right flank. I have a feeling that I will be seeing you in a few minutes.” Robin ran off, leaving Lon’qu and Lissa alone.

“Keep your distance until it is absolutely necessary woman.” Lon’qu turned away. “For your own safety. There may be archers aiming for you.” Lissa nodded, and the first man ran into the corridor.

He fell before he even realized there was a threat. Lon’qu let his corpse fall to the ground. Lon’qu didn’t bother to clean his blade. There would be more dead this night.

Two more came running around the corner with seemingly no regard for their own life. Lon’qu made them pay for their recklessness.

Then the archer took aim, and things got a bit messy. An arrow flew over Lon’qu’s right shoulder, sticking into the wall just over Lissa’s head. Lon’qu rushed out to strike down the bowman before he could take a more effective aim.

Then he realized that he was now out in the open with two mages taking aim at his flanks. A blade of wind shot forward, ripping up the tile beside him. As he dodged backwards, he felt a sudden jolt, then a numbing pain in his left leg.

He almost didn’t react in time when an axeman tried to cave his skull in. Two strikes later, and more blood was soaking the castle floor. 

Then Lon’qu felt his left leg numb suddenly as well. The blade of wind was coming. Lissa was running up. She held up her staff and suddenly some magical ward or another enveloped them. 

“You all right?” The yellow haired woman asked. Lon’qu was already charging at the lightning mage, felling him in a single strike. “Are you going to answer me?”

Lon’qu saw an archer taking aim at Lissa. “Get down woman!” He jumped in front of Lissa, feeling an immediate punch into his shoulder.

The arrow’s pain was immediately numbed by adrenaline as Lon’qu squared himself to strike at the archer— only to hear Frederick.

“Pick a god and pray!” He shouted as he used his horse to trample the offending archer. Frederick looked over at Lon’qu and smiled slightly. Lon’qu was confused for a moment, then realized that he was still shielding Lissa.

“Hmph.” Lon’qu began to stalk towards Robin’s front of the battlefield.

“W-wait Lon’qu! I need to heal you!”

“Save it for someone who actually needs it.”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

After the battle was already over, Lon’qu strategically placed himself in front of the rent in the wall, waiting for the bluenette to come back this way.

She did about an hour after he began to wait, his arrow and magical wounds making every movement difficult. She walked up to him and sighed.

“How did you figure it out?”

“You used my fighting style against me.” The woman’s eyes widened.

“I thought you hadn’t dev—“ She paused. “That just tells you that I am from the future.”

“It tells me no such thing. It tells me that someone taught you my fighting style. Robin seems to be picking it up like Frederick picks up a pebble… you could have been the same way.”

“Ok fine.” She begins to look irritated. “How then.”

“You switched your style against Chrom. Why?”

“I prefer my father’s style, but I knew that it wouldn’t stand a chance against yours. Even in this archaic stage of development.” Lucina smirked.

“Archaic?”

“How old are you right now Lon’qu?” Lucina asked.

“Nineteen winters.”

“Being older than you is a strange feeling. You were always one of the people I looked up to the most.” Lucina shook her head. “I left you in the future at 39 winters. A swordsman should always be perfecting his craft.”

“I suppose it must seem archaic to you.”

“I could barely hold you off now.” Lucina shakes her head. “Honestly I never stood a chance against you in a fair fight. And I had to win.”

“You allowed me to find out your gender on purpose.”

“Your future self told me that women troubled you in this time. And you always were very perceptive anyway. It wasn’t that difficult to tip you off.” She shakes her head. “But how did you figure out the rest?” 

“A combination of your brand, the style you used against Chrom, and me pondering what your motivations could possibly be.”

“Have you figured out those?”

“No.”

Lucina sighs again, this time in relief. “And hopefully you never will.” She begins to make her way through the rent in the wall.

“Wait.” She pauses at this command from Lon’qu. “I promise to keep your secret from Chrom if you tell me one thing.”

“Depends on what it is.” Was Lucina’s response.

“I know that you do not wish to reveal my fate to me—“

“Correct.”

“But is there any advice my future self would give me?” Lucina closes her eyes at this.

“You told me about Ke’ri already Lon’qu.” Lon’qu flinches at her name. “And your future self talked about how her fate always paralyzed you from loving anyone until it was too late.” Lucina turns back to Lon’qu. “You always referred to it as your greatest weakness.”

“Women? I already knew tha—“

“No, hesitation.” And with that, “Marth” walked out of the rent, and into the night.


	33. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot emphasize this enough. This work is still on the backburner until my other work (The Owain and Cynthia Variety Show) is finished. I had a half finished chapter and finished it because I had the time. I promise nothing else.

The next battle, Lon’qu’s job was to, and I quote from Robin: “Take this Wyrmslayer and smack any Wyvern Riders that get even close to Lissa while she is healing.” It was a simple, but important task. Lon’qu approved. What he did not approve of were flyers. They tended to strike, then fly away out of reach.

Well… unless you cut off their wings with a wyrmslayer. They tend to be rather stuck after that.

After a particularly close shave and three more dead Wyverns, Frederick looked him over once more. What was that man smiling about?

Lon’qu didn’t know much about the vassal. Others spoke of his fanatical fitness hours, or something of that same nature, with fear in their eyes. Every time Lon’qu went, he was able to keep the pace that the great knight set fairly easily. He knew of his dedication to the royal family. He understood that. Other things were of disinterest to Lon’qu. Unless…

Was he planning on making a move on him? Was Frederick a homosexual?

Lon’qu was definitely, definately not homosexual. Despite his avoidance of women. He is not interested. N--

A Wyvern dives for the young princess. He rushes towards her and pulls her out of the way, the beast crashing into the dirt in front of him. The rider takes his axe and chops a downward angle for his ribs. ...A glancing blow, but still painful. Nothing compared to what he normally endures of course…

Lon’qu returned in kind, striking his forth Wyvern rider of the day down. He looks down at his wound and notices that it is a good deal deeper than he thought… Oh look… They won the day.

Darkness was encroaching on the edges of his vision as they marched back north… He looked forward to seeing Basilio again. To make his report. These people… They…

“Oh no!” Lissa called. “You’re hurt. Let me take a look at it.”

“I am fine woman.” It sounded like she was talking through water. Things were getting cold… A warmth emanates from his ribs…

“This is really bad. I want you to sit in the wounded cart right now!” Lissa stomped.

“No.”

“That wasn’t a request!” Lissa puffs out her cheeks. “That was an order as the princess of Ylisse!”

“I am your brother’s man for now, but I am still a Feroxi. You cannot order me to do anything.”

Frederick and Chrom ride next to the marching pair. The lordling’s brand exposed for all to see. He hops down from his mount.

“Lon’qu. I need to speak to you. Do you have a moment?”

“Make it quick.” Lon’qu sighed.

“I need Frederick to train the others full time, and I need someone to guard Lissa in case of trouble. Both me and Emmeryn just had attempts on our lives, and I would not be surprised if another is made on hers. I need your vigilant eye on her. Can you do that?”

…

Being with a woman for long periods of time, getting close to her, perhaps even needing to be in the same room with her as she bathes or does other things? …  
“If I must.” Lon’qu sighed, feeling panic begin to well in his stomach.

“Great. You can start by going on the wounded cart and letting her heal you.”

…

Lon’qu trudged over there and hopped on. This was absolutely humiliating, and he was on the verge of panic. Lissa climbed in next to him and started probing her wound. The warmth of the staff filled his body again.

“Don’t worry about a thing. We’re going to be the best of friends before long, I just know it!”

This is the second worst day of his life.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

It wasn’t as bad as he thought. Aside for the occasional teasing pressure for contact, there was no attempts to touch or otherwise bother him. Lon’qu just made his tent close to hers, trained close to the healing tent when they made camp, and followed behind her when necessary. Dined nearby. Always close enough to close the distance at a moment’s notice, always far enough away so that touch was no issue. However, Lon’qu could sense something in Lissa just below the cheery facade. An irritation? Something lying just below the surface. Stewing. Day after day. As if something was restricting her…

It didn’t take long for Lon’qu to figure out what it was.

Furtive glances in the mess hall and medical tent. Longing gazes. Long periods of quiet sadness in between bursts of energy… Usually when she was around…

Lissa was deeply in love with Maribelle. Probably already in a secretive sexual relationship with her.

Lon’qu wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly why it had to stay that way… if it was the case. He had yet to be wrong in his perceptions and analysis of situations though. In the Chon’sinese slums, one was often killed for being a homosexual male, and females rarely got a choice in their sexual partners anyway. Yilesse was certainly no Chon’sin, but it was no Regena Ferox either. It is a Libertarian sort of place where the law did not restrict you unless you were actively hurting others, actively hurting yourself, or secretly plotting to do any of the aforementioned things. If you were gay in Regena Ferox, that was completely fine. As long as you didn’t force anyone to do anything they didn’t want to.

Ylisse, however, was sort of a mixture of these two ideologies. The church of the divine dragon, the group that worshipped Naga, discouraged same sex marriage. They did not stop commoners from pursuing such a course of action however.

Noblemen and women however were expected to provide an heir. He supposed that it probably wasn’t as imperative for a third child to be sexually vanilla, but she would still probably be married away-- surprising that she wasn’t already actually… Emmeryn as well. Perhaps they were negotiating a more favorable marriage? The point was that if the public found out she was gay, she would not be able to provide legitimacy for house exalt. In fact, it may even result in a coup de tat. 

She probably was dying to see her again, but under his more restrictive eye, she was not about to reveal both of their secrets lightly. She would suffer in silence. A sort of sad state of affairs when the best thing possible for those you care about to be as far from them as possible.

Lon’qu understood that mentality. He would wait for her to initiate that conversation…

…

His weakness is hesitation. Not on the battlefield, but in life. The worst thing that could possibly happen with his interference was that she would stop talking to him. That was something he wished for her to do anyway. The best thing that could possibly happen… Would be that two of his comrades could be happy.

He waited until Lissa was about to enter the bath tent one day before speaking on the subject.

“Lissa.” This made her smirk.

“What? No woman talk?” She does an unflattering imitation of his deep voice. “Woman. You are too close.”

“Lissa. You can go to her. I won’t tell.” Lon’qu pressed. Lissa went through several stages of surprise and fear before his eyes. Lissa was many things, but actor she was not.

“What?” Lissa looked at him with a mixture of hope, fear and disbelief.

“I won’t repeat myself. And I don’t lie.” Lon’qu directly contradicted himself with his next statement. “I won’t tell.”

Lissa pauses momentarily.

“Erm… could you… set up your tent a little bit further away from mine tonight?” Lissa smiles briefly.  
“I will do so.”


	34. Chapter 31

“So you are a bodyguard for the Exalt’s sister, Boy?” Basilio laughed when he reported this to him. “How did you manage to con yourself into a position like that?”

“I didn’t. I distinguished myself as always, and then their tactician paired me with the girl.” Lon’qu takes a sip of the brew Basilio served him, grimacing. “I managed to be in the right place at the right time enough times, and her former bodyguard recommends me for the position.”

“So you got lucky and took advantage.”

“As I would in a swordfight.” Lon’qu leans forward. “Lissa trusts me implicitly, and her brother did the same without a second thought. They are a trusting lot. Easily blindsided. Exemplified by that hierophant business.” Lon’qu sighs. “Frederick took more work. But once he established my competence, I was his first choice for a replacement.”

“I think that speaks more to you than him, boy. I’m not alone in seeing your potential.” Basilio smirks at the sudden small smile that Lon’qu gives. “These sheep herders are good for you.”

“Oh?”

“You’re a lot more open.” Basilio chuckles. “You smile more easily.”

“Hmph.” Lon’qu crosses his arms like a petulant child. This only makes Basilio laugh harder.

“So.” Basilio leans forward. “I think I already know the answer boy, but… should we trust these southerners?” Lon’qu replies without a moment’s hesitation:

“Without reservation.”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

“Darling, is it really alright to be kissing in front of Lon’qu?” Maribelle looks nervously at the stoic man.

“He figured it out on his own, and he hasn’t told anyone yet. I think he deserves a show.” Lissa winks at him.

“The only reason I am here is because I must be close to you at all times. I have no interest in watching you go about… coupling.” Marribelle grows a bright tomato red.

“It isn’t as if I would let a brute like you watch my precious Lissa anyway.” Maribelle gasps.

“You didn’t say anything about him watching you.” Lissa counters, giggling. Maribelle gasps and shoves her lover away.

“I have no desire to see either of you in your undergarments.” Lon’qu sighs. “Can you please move to a more private place? I will not be able to cover for you if you are out in the open like this.”

“But it’s so exciting with you watching.” Lissa’s eyes sparkle. Maribelle turns Lissa’s head so that their eyes meet.

“Darling, I am not comfortable with this either.” Maribelle tells her. “Can we please move to your room before things get… heated?” Lissa groans.

“Fine. You two are no fun.” She skips over towards the direction of her room. Maribelle follows, chuckling.

Maribelle turns to Lon’qu, shaking her head.

“Thank you. I don’t know what I could have done if you weren’t so understanding.” Maribelle gives a relieved smile. “Lissa is ever so grateful too.”

“As she has made expressly clear.” Lon’qu grunts back. “But I have no desire to accept your gifts of gratitude.”

“You’re gay right?”

“No. I am not homosexual.” Lon’qu bluntly puts it. “And there would be no problem if I was. Just like there is no problem if you are.”

“...Well, I was going to recommend one of my male associates in the upper class that would enjoy your company, but that doesn’t seem to be an issue, now is it?” Maribelle chuckles a bit.

“I have no desire for anyone’s company.”

“Now that simply isn’t true.” Maribelle smirks. “You’re just afraid of it. If there is anything I can do to repay you--”

“Do not make me repeat myself woman.” Lon’qu repeats himself a moment later anyway. “I have no desire for a romantic partner.”

“...Perhaps not.” Maribelle sighs wistfully. “There is something about being in love that makes you want to see the same emotion in others.” Maribelle gives a wry grin. “But I suppose that if you were interested in someone, you would have no difficulty obtaining their affections.”

Lon’qu sees Ke’ri flash before his eyes once more. It is not a question if he could. It is a question of whether or not he should. And the answer to that was a resounding no. No to causing anyone else grief. No to getting closer to women than he should. No to this, no to that, and in that exact moment he realized by doing this to these two women-- girls really… he was getting far too emotionally close for comfort.

...He was responsible for them now. He couldn’t let either of them die. Not like Ke’ri, not like Sheila. He was in a position that he could watch over them. Keep them safe from harm.

“I have no desire of gaining anyone’s affections, but perhaps you are right.”

“You are just so forthright and honest. You say exactly what you think. It is hard not to admire that in someone. Especially in my position when strategic lying is my entire life.” Maribelle chuckles derisively. “It is called diplomacy.”

“Hmph.”

“You aren’t unattractive either.” Maribelle comments. “Just not my type.” Type meaning: wrong type of genitalia, in this case.

Lon’qu sighs. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Is it flattery when I stand nothing to gain?” Innocent enough question…

“...Be silent.” Lon’qu grumpily quips.

Maribelle’s laughter sounds like, well, a bell. She opens the door to Lissa’s room.

“You be a good guard now. I don’t want anyone interrupting us.”

Muffled erotic moans begin coming from the room soon after. It was almost as if they wanted to tell all of ferox about their illicit relationship. Lon’qu exhaled out of his nose in a puff. Perhaps he could drown them out a bit for casual passers by. He pulled out his sword and began working through his forms almost as an afterthought, becoming a whirlwind of steel. Before long, the sound of Lissa’s cute snores filled the area. Perhaps a nap would do them some good. They were a bit wound up. Lon’qu’s small grin suddenly disappeared with the sound of glass crashing within the room.

Lon’qu burst into the room as well, processing the scene before him in a moment. A man, bow drawn was pointing an arrow directly at Lissa. Maribelle and the aforementioned partner were looking at the man in shock. Lon’qu cursed the size of these rooms. He would not be able to get to the man before he loosed. He would not be able to save both of them. This always happened. This al--

Don’t hesitate.

Lon’qu springs forward, his blade clattering, abandoned to the floor. The would be assassin topples, his arrow sticking into the ceiling. The bow is dropped, a dagger is drawn. Lon’qu stops the man’s arm by grabbing his wrist. With a hard, sudden strike to his elbow, he forces the man to impale himself in his upper right arm. A scream. He fumbles in his bag for something. Lon’qu grabs his wrist and forces him to drop that as well. A vial.

“That was my only antidote!” The man gasps. “Damn it! I’m going to d--” The man’s head falls backwards. ...Suspiciously quick acting poison.

Lon’qu stands, pulls a few shards of glass out of his palms and flicks them contemptously on the assassin. He barely processes the fact that two woman are gripping one another, terrified in bed as naked as the day they were born. There still might be danger.

“Lissa. Maribelle. Get dressed.” Lon’qu orders. He has no authority over either of them. In fact, they could both have him executed in an instant. They follow orders and either forget to, or choose not to address this. Whether from understanding this was part of his duty, understanding that they both had no method of defending themselves without him, or from just plain terror… two nobles obey a jumped up commoner from Chon’sin.

And another fact comes to Lon’qu in a flash. He just… protected them. Was he getting stronger? No. This was just a fluke. ...Basilio would tell him not to discount this victory. Olivia, somewhat hypocritically would do the same. But Lon’qu would not accept this as anything but another way for the fates to torture him until he could at least even the score.

And he would have plenty of chances. He had a feeling that this plot was far from over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the beginning of Lon'qu's rise back up. Even higher than he can imagine. Leave a comment!


	35. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back?  
> So. I took last week off, and now I am going to be posting one chapter every week on... Thursday. Good news! Next week you get your chapter next week one day early. Honestly, Thursday is going to be a better day for me to post. Anyway. Yeah. This Fanfic is officially active again. As promised.

The room was turned into a crime scene. The now purpling corpse was in the center of the room, the arrow in the ceiling, the knife in his arm. Robin was stalking the room-- examining all the evidence for the third time over. Maribelle and Lissa were standing nervously in the corner with Chrom and Basilio flanking them. Guards were also placed by the window and at the door.

“Tell me the story again Lon’qu.” Robin asks turning to him.

“He already told it to you three times.” Maribele belayed her nervousness with an excessive show of exasperation. “Now cease this line of questioning before I give you a sharp retort with my parasol.”

Robin and Lon’qu ignored this outburst.

“Maribelle and Lissa were having tea inside when I heard a crash of glass from within--”

“Why were you stationed outside their room while they were having tea?”

“I was training.”

“It is true.” Basilio confirms. “I was walking by the room and saw him training outside. I was busy at the time however, and decided to not talk with him.”

This was simply not true. Basilio did not pass by. Why was he lying to corroborate his story? Was there something that Lon’qu was missing?

“Continue.” Robin prompts.

“I rushed in and tackled the perpetrator immediately.” Lon’qu continued. He fired his arrow harmlessly into the ceiling, but then drew a dagger on me. I diverted the strike into his right arm in hopes of capturing him alive. I did not account for him having poisoned his dagger.”

“Right… hrm…” Robin stops pacing. “Everything checks out except for one thing: if Marribelle and Lissa were having a tea party, why is the arrow in the ceiling aimed towards the bed?” Lon’qu’s mind starts to race.

“His arm sort of wh--” Robin holds up a hand to interrupt him.

“I was trying to be subtle. This room also smells like Sumia and Chrom’s tent after a long night.” Lissa, Lon’qu, and Maribelle turn into tomatoes, Chrom’s face morphs into one of outrage, and Basilio bursts into a gale of laughter.

“You’re on your own there, boy!” Basilio roars.

Chrom crosses the room in an instant, grabbing Lon’qu by the collar. Basilio casually, subtly draws his axe. Lon’qu looks into his eyes calmly.

“What did you do to my sister?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me you dastard!” Chrom shouts.

“Chrom.” Robin puts a hand on his shoulder. “Do you think a man that is afraid of women is capable of sleeping with your sister?”

Chrom, after a moment, sets Lon’qu down. Basilio puts his axe back. Then Robin drops the bombshell.

“Lon’qu is probably covering for Maribelle and Lissa.” Chrom slowly turns to her. Maribelle looks like a fish. Lissa has found something interesting on the floor. Lon’qu appears outwardly calm, but his blood is frozen. Robin looks confused.

“Is something wrong?”

At that moment, a messenger rushes into the room.

“Emmeryn has been captured!”


	36. Chapter 33

The heat was getting to him.

All pervasive, all consuming, inescapable heat. It sapped him of his energy. His fur coat gave way to bare skin and corded muscle. Lon’qu noticed greedy eyes from women when he did this. A much lighter cloth shirt was chosen after that. This decision somewhat mitigated the stares, but his mind, for once, was not on women.

He remained alert for trouble befalling Lissa, her lover scarce now that their trysts were exposed, but he could afford to think on something else in broad daylight with no one out but the desperate who marched for a rescue.

This was Plegia. This is where the mage who killed Sheila is from. Did one of these locals that smile or scurry away from him and hide a deadly secret? When it comes to mages, at least they faced him with tome in hand rather than a curse behind closed doors. Something that was impossible to counter against.

Lon’qu spoke his concerns to Robin.

“You aren’t wrong.” Robin sighed. “Chrom’s father led a campaign into these lands. His force was superior in every way to the Plegian forces. And yet… his soldiers tended to die in horrible, bloody ways. Over a million dead all told over a period of twenty years. Eventually it got to the point where Plegian peasants were tortured to death on the suspicion of being dark mages.”

Lon’qu scowls a bit. “So there is no way to tell? If who we see is a Dark Mage or not?”

Robin purses his lips a bit.

“Dark Magic is not like Animus. With animus, very few have the potential to cast, but with Dark Magic, anyone can. All anyone needs is devotion to Grima, and a source of energy. What it feeds off of is negative emotion. The stronger the negative emotion, the stronger the magic. That, but curses also require something of the target.”

“Anyone who pillaged or raped were the ones killed.” Lon’qu guessed. Robin looked impressed.

“By their very victims. But it was a self perpetuating cycle. The more retribution curses, the more plundering and pillaging and raping that went on in retribution. Which lead to more retribution killings.” Robin sighed. “Chrom’s father made a very fatal mistake. He completely disregarded two of the basic arts of war. He had no idea what he was facing, or where he was facing them. But he was right about one thing-- the Ylissian army was more powerful in open battle--”

“At which point you don’t face your opponent openly.”

“You seem knowledgeable about tactics.” Robin certainly sounded impressed. Lon’qu is dismissive.

“Flattery will get you nowhere. I was merely viewing the situation pragmatically.”

“Which is called tactics.” Robin laughs. “Who do you study? You’re Chon’sineese, do you know about Sun’Su?”

“I have no idea of who you speak.” Lon’qu crossed his arms.

“He wrote a book called the art of war. Have you read it?” Robin looked so earnestly interested…

“I cannot read.” Lon’qu stated bluntly.

“I can teach you.” Robin seemed excited at this prospect. “I would love your perspective on many of the…” Lon’qu began to tune out the tactician there. His mind wandered to a pink haired dancer that he spent many a sleepless night worrying over. A pink haired dancer who seemed determined to crack him. ...He wasn’t so sure if that was a bad thing anymore…

“I already have a teacher.” Lon’qu interrupted abruptly. Robin looked… hurt.

“Ah. Alright.” An awkward pause formed in between them, interrupted by a sudden scream:

“AUGH! GET AWAY! Everyone just leave me ALONE!” A young girl is wearing… is that clothes? Lon’qu isn’t sure on whether or not that… thing the girl is wearing is clothes. More like a glorified ribbon. She also has green hair and extremely pointed ears.

“...Alright Lon’qu. We have to get ready for battle anyway.” Robin turns away coldly and organizes a battle formation.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

“Gregor not make with the believing. Basilio replace Gregor with skinny Choon’seen boy?” Lon’qu bristled for a moment, but said nothing. He had been called worse.

“That skinny Chon’sinese boy could run circles round yah then kick yer arse Gregor.” Basilio laughs.

“Oi. Don’t be writing butts that his checks can’t cash, yes?” Gregor roars with laughter.

“So what happened to you?” Basilio slides a drink in Gregor’s direction.

“Gregor lose four times in row. One day, Gregor decide: ‘Oi! Gregor is getting too old for fight against pretty woman in arena. Gregor must make with the going.’ Gregor thought Gregor told you this already.”

“It doesn’t seem like a very good reason.” Basilio commented.

“How long before skinny Choon’seen boy come?”

“About a month. He was even skinnier then.”

“Not possible. His arm already toothpick.” Gregor gestured at Lon’qu’s lithe, muscular arm.

“Hmph.” Lon’qu exhaled.

“Gregor is finally getting to little itty bitty skinny Choon’seen boy!” Gregor roars. Lon’qu thinks of something, anything that can give him the upper hand. If he is anything like Basilio… No. Not worth it.

“He’s not much of a boaster.” Basilio comments. “Means that he overcompensates for nothing.”

“What is this… overcompensate? Gregor not know.” Gregor’s eyes sparkle, showing that this was in fact a joke.

“Overcompensate is what you do every day of your life.” Basilio roars.

“You catch Gregor. Put him in compensator jail, yes?”

The two laugh.

“But seriously, I think that Lon’qu could give you a run for your money in a mat--” Before Basilio could finish, Gregor had a sword pointed at Lon’qu’s throat.

“Match over. Gregor make with the winning.” As Gregor is sliding his sword back into his sheath, Lon’qu hits him with a lightning fast jab. Gregor falls out of his chair.

“I win the rematch. And every other match now that I know to be wary around you.” Lon’qu turns to Basilio. “Can we be done here?”

Basilio had fallen out of his chair laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last reminder: Every Thursday now.
> 
> Be sure to comment!


	37. Chapter 34

The night air felt cool and crisp on his bare chest. Logically, Lon’qu knew that the desert night air had to be much hotter than a Feroxi summer, but the desert night was still much cooler than the day. Nighttime in the desert was this sort of ethereal thing. No sound but the rush of wind moving the sand dunes inch by inexorable inch to some sort of destination that no one knew-- one that no one could possibly know. You could tell Lon’qu that the impossible existed in this quiet place of relative cool and silence, and he may just believe you. With proof of course.

And in this calm and cool quiet, Lon’qu had never felt a more resounding peace in his entire life. He sat in front of the corpses of two more would be assassins. He sat with the knowledge that he could protect. He had evened the score-- more than evened it. Sheila, now that he thought about it, wasn’t his fault. He could have done nothing to prevent that. He should not blame himself for something beyond his control. And with rescuing his charge, a woman who he cared about…

What were his feelings for Lissa? They were not easily quantified. ...He certainly did not view her in a romantic sense. But he was certainly closer to her than the mere title of bodyguard. He… felt happier when she was around. She was like Sheila in that sense… talking to fill the silent space-- she was uncomfortable with silence too. Unconcerned with standing or rank, often smiling so that her frowns and pouts held more meaning. They both would do predictably the right thing… He admired that.

So that’s what Lissa was. A… friend. Maribelle too. Which made this current situation between them all the more tragic. If he could do something to save them from the precarious situation they were now in, he would in a heartbeat. But he had failed them in that regard. Lon’qu could only hope that after this all blew over, Chrom would be as understanding of their situation as Basilio and Robin.

Lon’qu’s blade swiped left to rest against “Marth’s” throat.

“I never could sneak up on you.” She chuckled.

“Why are you here?” Lon’qu returned his blade to his sheath.

“I was in the area, and I wanted to congratulate you.” There it is-- a soft enchanting smile. If Lon’qu wasn’t weirded out by the ethical repercussions of marrying a woman who hasn’t even been conceived yet, he may actually question what he felt for her. 

...He’s thinking about marriage? Best not to. Even still, after all that… not yet.

“Why is that?”

“You have already changed the future.” “Marth” looks excited.

“Hmph. Do not be coy.” 

“Marribelle was supposed to die that day.” “Marth” is grinning. “Now that you did that, who knows what will happen?”

Lon’qu’s head spins. So he didn’t save them both in the original timeline. Because he must have hesitated. What would this change? Surely it was nothing but a small passive change… Simply a result of a better path with no far reaching consequences whatsoever…

“So… how are you and aunt Lissa doing?”

“...I am able to protect her.”

“That’s good!” “Marth” beams. “And you’re strong enough to keep it that way.” 

“Flattery w--”

“ill get me nowhere? I know.” “Marth” rises. “I should get going. Give you two some space.” “Marth” disappears into the night.

Lon’qu stews over that last comment. “You two.” As if… no…

That couldn’t be it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to comment! Hope you enjoyed!


	38. Chapter 35

“You convinced Frederick to watch Lissa for the night?”

“Of course.” Lon’qu nodded at Basilio. “You requested my presence?”

“We have to meet with my agent to arrange for our escape.” Basilio grins.

“Shouldn’t we let Robin arrange such a thing?” Lon’qu asked, continuing to follow his father figure.

“That Boy has enough on his plate already with this operation.” Basilio shakes his head in appreciation. “I told him to rely on me for this, so he can.”

“And why must I come?”

“They were rather insistent on seeing you.” Basilio grins. “I think they are your biggest fan.”

Lon’qu resisted the gut instinct, knee jerk reaction to turn around. He had rather… unpleasant experiences with fans.

“...If I must.”

“You need to get out anyway boy! Don’t want you to end up an old bachelor like me!” Belly laughter once more.

“I would not worry.” Lon’qu deadpans. “That fate is not so objectionable to me.”

“Bah. One bad experience and you never love again?” Basilio shakes his head. “You deserve better for yourself.”

“Hmph.” Lon’qu rolls his eyes. “Do not pressure me.”

“That’s the only way you do anything boy! Otherwise you hide in the basement and work yourself to death.” Basilio isn’t on one of his two default emotions… he isn’t indignant or joyous… he almost looks melancholic…

“You got a lot of me in you boy. More than I’m entirely comfortable with.”

The lights of the oasis city are harsh starlight in the distance, wavering in celebration for the impending execution of the Ylissian Exalt. The tall imposing cliff over a canyon floor stood silent in the distance. A single figure cloaked in a rough, homespun piece of cloth that covered any identifying signs of gender, ethnicity, and identity approached them on the road. Whoever they were, they were experienced in espionage. Such a garment is utterly conspicuous in the dressing habits of Plegians-- which covered only the bare essentials and left little to the imagination.

Then the hood obscuring her face was lifted, and Lon’qu felt his heart in his throat. Olivia.

Her pink hair was shiny, catching the light behind her and making it glow with the warmth of the sunrise. It was that point he knew why she scared him beyond all others. She seemed timid, but around him she glowed. Radiated with inner strength. A determination. Like night and day, as if his very presence emboldened her. Lon’qu was anything but stupid. Anything but unobservant.

She was in love with him. And that terrified him.

It somehow was even more intense than on the day of Marth’s defeat at the hands of Chrom. Simultaneously feeling like ten years ago and yesterday. Because Lon’qu had changed. He… felt like he could protect those close to him now. He was willing to try.

He was seriously considering trying with Olivia.

Olivia turned to Basilio first.

“Um… tell Robin that there is a priest of Naga in town and a dark mage unwilling to fight.” Olivia gives a tight grin, her eyes snapping back and forth from Lon’qu. “M-maybe that will bring him some sort of advantage?”

“I’ll let him know. Be ready to help our escape at the Midmire.” Basilio tells her. His agent nods, still looking with growing uncertainty at Lon’qu.

“Um… I…” Olivia clams up. Basilio looks to Lon’qu as well. Lon’qu sighs and looks at the ground.

“Come out of this alive woman. You still need to teach me how to read.” Lon’qu grunts. Olivia nods emphatically.

“I-I will! And… When I escape with you-- erm… after… I want to fight with you! Please! L-let me protect you!” Olivia bows suddenly, throwing Lon’qu completely off guard.

Lon’qu felt true terror at the implications. True fear at her statements. Her beauty. The way she looked at him. True fear at his own feelings… But why was he still afraid?

Despite all this, Lon’qu nods. He wants to try. Something. Anything. And… she’s made it clear she wants to try too.

But the fear remains...

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

You know what comes next. The rescue goes sour. The Exalt jumps off of the cliff. An exalted head spreads it’s contents across the desert canyon floor. Lon’qu had to physically pick up a screaming and crying Lissa on the way out. There… there had to have been something he could have done…

No. He was distracting an armored fellow nearby, but it took the Exalt jumping for him to get an edge in the duel-- a truly formidable opponent. His normal tactics nearly got himself killed. Trying to push him over nearly earned him a short spear in the chest. Eventually the more heavily armored opponent would have run out of stamina, but the exalt jumping… the general cheered. It was cut off when his head was removed from his shoulders.

Now he was running through the mire with a softly weeping Lissa on his shoulder. Constantly moaning out: “Emmeryn, Emmeryn…” It was getting a bit irritating. Not that he didn’t understand, but… Couldn’t it wait until they were to safety? Practicality should come before emotion.

That’s when the Shepherds see them. An entire army standing between them and the checkpoint where they could meet with Olivia. An entire army of guilt ridden downtrodden men despite their victory. A group of men that had just been exposed to their own depravity. The sacrifice of the leader of their enemy brought a mirror that not many were comfortable with seeing. That was when they heard it.

“Ylissians!” A giant of a man-- almost as large as Basilio-- approaches the Shepherds. “I offer you mercy. Surrender now and live.”

“Surrender?” Basilio scoffs from next to Lon’qu. “I am not familiar with the word.”

They talk more-- a farce. A mere ploy to try and stop the Shepherds from escaping. Mustafa had to see as he did that the Plegians under his command were demoralized beyond fighting. Mustafa was as well. He could barely swing his axe-- this man who looked to be a match for Basilio. This man who could easily destroy many a Shepherd allowed himself to be killed by Chrom.

The Shepherds killed a sympathetic man-- a man wracked with guilt-- so much so that he gave up on life rather than fight them. But then again, Chrom was probably so incensed at the time that he didn’t even process it. When Olivia approached, he passed by her without a word and set his charge into a wagon. This loss, by all appearances, would destroy the war. This loss would end the will to fight.

And this force. The Shepherds could no longer be considered the pet project of a naive second born son without a hope of an inheritance of his own, but a force led by the exalt himself.

How far would he rise? Lon’qu himself could not guess. But the current view was not secured anyway. There was still much to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to comment!


	39. Chapter 36

Lon’qu stood at his post, surrounded by the haunted. They were possessed of such a mind that the world around them seemed drab greys, stark whites, and hopeless blacks. They had failed apparently. Emmeryn’s brilliant brains lay scattered across the rocky desert canyon ground. The last remaining of the indelible Ylissian pegasus knights were a just-recently-announced-as-pregnant Sumia, and the one heralded as a genius by everyone but those who mattered most to her. Lon’qu forgot her name. She did more whining about her situation than making effort to change it. Such a woman was not worth remembering.

They had apparently failed, but Lon’qu saw the consequences of a different failure looming. The Plegians had traced a finger of ash and blood straight to the Ylissian capital. That was the real issue. Thousands of lives lost. Thousands more displaced by the invading force. And the new Exalt, instead of returning home in hopes of rebuilding, sat in palace Ferox, perhaps in hopes that all of his problems would solve themselves. Right now, instead of taking initiative and striking Gangrel while mass desertion was still going on, or using the opportunity to negotiate a peace, he was sitting around doing nothing. If he had sat around doing nothing for three months after Ke’ri died he would be dead too. There was a time for mourning and a time for action. The new Exalt was getting the two confused.

Lon’qu huffed in frustration. And now the idiot has forbidden Lissa from seeing the one person that can probably help her in this situation. Chrom was not earning his respect in the least. Many a nobleman had dalliances with multiple women. Lon’qu did not understand how this was any different. If he truly believed it to be a “problem” then perhaps he should have taken a closer look at his beloved older sister’s relationship with Phila. The two were rarely separated, and neither married. Perhaps he is reading too much into things, perhaps not. But it was unusual for a ruler to not pursue advantageous marriages…

Lon’qu wasn’t quite sure how Ylissian politics worked, but if this was the fate of Ylisse, to have this man in charge? A ruler driven by emotion would surely drive a country into the ground. Chrom was definitely driven by emotion. Chrom, at this rate, will drive Ylisse to the ground.

Lon’qu hears Lissa sob once more and sighs. If his presence wasn’t necessary, then he would give her the space she needed. However… 

She needs Maribelle more. But the two had been avoiding one another since that day. A silence born of danger with a tenseness behind it that spoke of someone snapping at any moment. This was not good for any of them. Not for his nerves, not for Lissa, not for Maribelle, and not for Chrom.

Especially not for Chrom.

Lon’qu approached a weeping Lissa.

“Come. We are going somewhere.” Lissa sniffed. She appreciated the effort Lon’qu was going to, but…

“Lon, nothing you can do can make me feel better right now.”

“I know. That’s why you’re coming with me.” Lon’qu tugs on her arm.

“Is it important?”

“I wouldn’t be touching you if it wasn’t.” Lissa groans.

“Fine.” Lissa rises-- hair frazzled, dark circles under her eyes, shambling. She groans. A low, exauhsted, long outpouring of air. She hadn’t bathed in at least a week. She looked, smelled, and moved like a risen. Lon’qu knew one person who would not stand for that.

Lissa blanches when they approach Maribelle’s room.

“Lon, I can’t go in there! Chrom will kill me!”

“I sincerely doubt that.” Lon’qu knocks at the door. An immaculately dressed Maribelle opens the door, takes one dumbfounded look at Lissa, and drags her into her room.

“Lon’qu darling, could you get one of Lissa’s dresses? Perhaps that pink one that goes so well with her hair?”

“Maribelle! You know I hate pink!” Lon’qu could practically hear her pout. “Get me my favorite yellow one at least!”

“That ragged thing? Pish posh. You can practically see things for my eyes only when you wear that.” An exaggeration, but that dress has been worn ragged.

“I will get Lissa clothes.” Lon’qu assures her. “...She needs your help Maribelle. Whatever that looks like.”

That statement gives Maribelle pause. This lowborn lout without a bit of manners or breeding is acting like such a gentleman about this situation. ...No. A gentleman would not be so understanding. Lon’qu was something of a synthesis. The respectful, serious demeanor that a lord ought to have… with the ideals and convictions of a commoner. This man was not of Chon’sin, Ferox, or Ylisse, but of himself. A Lon’quian culture. Of which he is the sole possessor.

“Lon’qu.” She finally manages at his back. “You look more confident.”

“So?”

“It’s a good look for you.” Maribelle smiles. “There may be hope for you yet.”

The door closes before Lon’qu can respond. He purses his lips… and turns back to Lissa’s room. On the way there he began to realize that he had no idea what clothes women wear. Erm… underneath the dress. Smallclothes. What should he bring? Maribelle truly was sending a blind man for this task.

That’s when he saw her. Stalking the halls like a timid pink haired ghost. Holding something wrapped in cloth…

Lon’qu approaches.

“Woman.”

“Eep! Um… Lon’qu. Erm…”

“I need your help.” Olivia looks to the ground at this, a smile twitching across her face.

“Anything. Anything at all.”

“Maribelle told me to help her and get Lissa a dress.” Lon’qu looked uncomfortable.

“You… haven’t even seen smallclothes have you?”

“They were a luxury many commoners saw as frivolous. I only started wearing them after I came to Ferox.” Lon’qu breathed out in a sigh.

“They were an adjustment for me too. It is more of a matter of keeping cool in Plegia. More layers… that is an issue.”

“You’re from Plegia?” Lon’qu asked, looking straight ahead. This served Olivia just fine.

“Ylissians would say so. I was raised on the road between Plegia and Ferox though. Never really knew a home besides my troop. The troop doesn’t care what blood you have.”

“Meaning?”

“My blood is half Ylissian half Plegian.” Olivia said softly. Lon’qu knew the connotation of that statement well enough. Chrom’s father’s army came through at about the right time on one of their foolhardy crusades…

“I know what it’s like to not know your parents.”

“I knew my mother. She was a fortune teller… one day one of her patrons didn’t like what she had to say about theirs… She died when I was nine.”

“...I suppose it must be harder to lose a parent than to never really have one.” Lon’qu admitted. “Self reliance is a double edged sword because then you don’t know how to ask for help when you really need it.” Olivia stops… then giggles a bit.

“I haven’t even told Basilio that story.”

“And you aren’t sure why you told me?” Lon’qu reasoned.

“No. I know exactly why I told you.”

A slight blush. She can’t meet his eyes. What was new? Nothing and everything. Lon’qu was too afraid to press further still. Olivia seemed to know this, so instead of expecting a response she hands him the package.

“It’s dinnertime.”

“So?”

“When did you eat last?” Lon’qu thinks for a moment.

“Yesterday evening.”

“I thought so.” Olivia looked steadily down at folded hands. “I… made you something.”

It is a simple meal. A bit of beef, some potatoes, carrots, and a bit of bread. But Olivia made it. For him.

The thought terrified and aroused him at the same time. Lon’qu popped a potato in his mouth. A decent enough meal.

They approached Lissa’s door, Lon’qu with growing apprehension, and Olivia quickly growing more comfortable in her own skin. It was as if all of her spectacular beauty and ethereal grace were hitting him all at once like a hammer. And she was attracted to him somehow? Impossible.

That was when he heard it. The sound of rummaging within the room. Someone was looking for something in Lissa’s room. The door was ajar. Another assassin. Or not. Either way, he was not welcome. The man stepped into Lissa’s closet just as Lon’qu opened the door.

Lon’qu looked at his admirer. She seemed to know they were inside as well. A solemn calm had crept over her face. Lon’qu silently drew his sword. He gestured for Olivia to leave. She shook her head. Lon’qu did it again, more emphatically this time. Olivia mirrored the intensity when she shook her head again. Lon’qu responded with a withering look. Olivia smiled in response and drew her dagger.

Lon’qu opened the door and placed a razors edge on the attempted perpetrator’s throat. A pause. His weapon clatters to the floor.

“Get the guard Olivia.”

Olivia hurried off and Lon’qu tapped the would-be-assassin’s collarbone with his blade.

“Step into the light.”

The man steps into the light with his bracers bristling with blades. Lon’qu glances at them.

“Remove the bracers.”

The man acquiesces, the bladed gauntlets dropping to the ground.

“Congratulations.” A soft scratchy voice comes from the cloak. “You caught me.”

“You have a lot of questions to answer.” Lon’qu asserts.

Robin arrives with a whole group of guards.

“I’ll take it from here. Thank you Lon’qu.” Robin pats his shoulder. The guard and Robin take the assassin away, and Olivia goes into the closet.

“Um… let’s take care of the dress situation…” Olivia takes ahold of a baby blue one. 

Together, Olivia and Lon’qu returned to Marribelle’s room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I see people are reading this, but in the end numbers don't keep me coming back to this fanfic, it is your comments! So be sure to leave feedback, thoughts, and praise/scorn in the comments!


	40. Chapter 37

Robin has gathered the Shepherds for a meeting. The morale in the room is almost as dead as Emmeryn. Even the Vaike remains silent in this time of turmoil, his normal loud and boisterous ways replaced with a similar quiet uneasiness.

Robin, in contrast, looks revitalized. His eyes speaking of secrets bursting with potential, a million ideas underneath that mess of white hair. He stands next to a Chrom with newfound determination. A still quiet, but well groomed Lissa sits nearby.

All the while, the aura of confidence that Robin exudes begins to make it’s mark. Their Tactician has the light back in his eyes. He has a plan. Chrom isn’t completely deflated anymore. Something was going to be done.

Robin smirks confidently and lays his hands flat on the table. He finally speaks:

“We have received word that Gangrel has been deposed.” Electric whispers spread like wildfire among the shepherds at the news. Robin points at the map.

“Gangrel is holed up in a stronghold near the border with only those most loyal to him.” Robin looks back up. “Flavia has been traveling around accepting the surrenders of most of the mutinying army. Her and her army will be striking from the south, while Basilio is moving down from port ferox to strike from the west. The fall of the fortress will hopefully draw Gangrel and his followers onto a battlefield of my choosing… here.” Robin taps the map again. Just to the east of the fortress is a wooded slope overlooking where they will spill out.”

Talk continued on like this, speaking of individual roles. Lon’qu was instead disturbed that Basilio would just leave without telling him…

“Basilio needs you to be here.” Olivia commented to his unspoken question in a low tone that only Lon’qu could hear. She had crept beside him a few moments before Robin began his speech. “He knew that you would want to go with him.”

“Didn’t your convoy leave for Port Ferox with him?” Lon’qu whispered back.

Olivia flushed red, but did not respond. She didn’t need to. They both knew exactly why the other was there in that moment. They both knew that the other knew. And yet for some reason they did not act. Mutual fear. Because the next step was off the deep end.

Lon’qu slowly, steadily was able to move his attention back to Robin.

“From what our spies tell us, Gangrel has very few archers at his disposal if any, so Sumia and Cordelia will fly over the forest. Hopefully we can use our calvary and our pegasus knights to immediately start some flanking maneuvers. The rest of us are going to just have to move as quickly as possible to try and keep up.” Robin nods quickly. “Any questions?”

“Why don’t we just let the forces who deposed Gangrel deal with him?” Lon’qu rumbled.

“Because in order for Flavia to get the war reparations she so demands, we have to be the unquestioned victors.” Robin shrugged noncommittally. “It wouldn’t be so bad for Ylisse to see some of the war reparations Emmeryn paid Plegia either. Any other questions?”

There were none, so the meeting was dismissed. As Lon’qu was about to head out though, he was met by Frederick.

“I will be able to protect the royal family from now on once more.” His normally stern demeanor softened ever so slightly. “I cannot begin to thank you enough.” Frederick walked away before Lon’qu could respond, leaving him purposeless once more.

He sighs but then hears a diminutive voice behind him:

“I guess that means your schedule is open? Erm… You still need to learn to read.”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

You know what happens next. Gangrel dies. However usually it is portrayed that he is killed by Chrom in an act of vengeance. However Gangrel was killed when Nowi accidentally sat on him. There was no glorious final confrontation. No final battle with fanfare and glory. Nowi was facing the opposite direction, she stepped back to fire, and then squish. Gangrel pancake. He died like a maggot. Crushed into the dirt so that his insides spilled out to make mud.

Lon’qu killed more than a few of the warriors with the support of Olivia in that battle-- both of them protecting the young princess Lissa. Lon’qu had never seen Olivia more confident than she was that day, striking out in her graceful style-- the style that was a derivative of his own. Many opponents dropped their guard entirely before a blade struck them down. Whether Lon’qu’s or Olivia’s. 

They killed so many. And Olivia was confident. Smiling almost. Until the battle ended. Then the realization of what she had just done came crashing down. She threw up on the side of the road.

“Is battle always like that?” Olivia asked Lon’qu after retching.

“Like what?”

“Like death?” Oliva whispered. “I see you and Basilio in combat and I didn’t ever think something so graceless and lifeless could spawn from something so beautiful…”

“Fighting is always meant for death. ...This can’t be the first time you’ve seen a corpse.”

“First time I’ve created one.” Olivia said.

“That’s understandable then.” Lon’qu gave a sigh and a pause as Olivia righted herself. Why did you go into battle if the idea doesn’t appeal to you?”

“You were going in.”

“You don’t have to fi--”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Olivia interrupted.

“B--” Olivia cut a hand through the air to silence him.

“Just don’t Lon’qu.” Olivia looked down, blushing at her own boldness. “I… erm… I want to help. It’s just… jarring.”

“...Just don’t kill yourself on my account.” Lon’qu asserted.

Olivia didn’t respond to that. Promising nothing so that it was impossible to disappoint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per usual, be sure to comment your thoughts!


	41. Interlude 3: Noblewoman gossip

Olivia sees the pair of blondes in front of her and can’t help but feel more than a little bit intimidated. These two women were two of the few remaining upper echelon of Ylisse. And they had just invited her to tea. Sure she knew manners, but she didn’t know how to eat in front of nobility! Was she supposed to sit a certain way? Was she su--

“Yuh need tuh relax a bit Liv.” Lissa told Olivia, her mouth bulging from the amount of crumpet that she had just shoved inside of it.

“Darling. How many times do I have to remind you not to talk with your mouth full? And take smaller bites. You’ll choke.”

Lissa gulped, and Olivia relaxed a fraction in that moment. No matter how bad her manners were, they couldn’t be worse than the Exalt’s sister. She picked up the cup of tea and took a sip. A lemon blend. The electric tingle it sent up her tongue put a smile on her face.

“Sooooo.” Lissa practically beamed. “Tell us about Lon’qu.”

All joy and cheer drained from her face immediately to be replaced by flushing fear.

“I… um… there’s nothing to talk about.” Olivia braced her fingers against themselves. “Nope. Um… Nothing.”

“Please. Lying is unbecoming among friends.” Marribelle stirs her tea and takes a sip with an unreadable expression before setting the teacup down and continuing. “Besides. I wish to get to know another woman of my station.”

“I… what? I’m not of your station.” Olivia looks a bit panicked. “I’m a gypsy! Below even a common wretch.”

“It is quite obvious to me, and you evidently, that Lon’qu has all but been declared officially to be the heir of West Ferox.” Marribelle looked at the fidgeting dancer. “And if you were to marry our mutual friend Lon’qu, then you would also be standing at the station of queen.”

“Um… not quite how it works.” Olivia shakes her head. “The Khan is the Khan. Their partners share their bed, sure, but they aren’t of any higher class than they would be anyway.”

“Partners?” Lissa asked wide eyed, emphasizing the S.

“Erm… yes. The ten most recent Khans haven’t had any more than three at a time.”

“Polygamy is illegal!” Lissa pointed out unhelpfully.

“Not in Ferox.” Olivia steadily looked at the ground.

“Darling, the moral ambiguity of polygamy aside, if you stand to gain nothing in the way of status, why would you attempt to be with Lon’qu in the first?”

“I…” Olivia’s voice broke. “Love… him…” She stutters out, letting the admission hang in the air like the vibrations of a symphony before the applause. She continued, never looking up, but her voice building in intensity. “I love how he treats me with respect, no matter what I’m wearing or doing. I love his voice, a rich bass that sends shivers down my spine. I love his face, the warm smile smiles when you catch him off guard, and the cold mask he shows his enemies. I love what he has endured. For him to tell, not I. I love how strong he is. I love how strong he could become. I love him. I love him I love him Ilovehim Ilovehim IlovehimIlovehimIlovehim!”

Marribelle and Lissa sit in stunned silence for a moment, looking back and forth from each other to the pink haired gypsy.

“Um… I’m sorry… I should just go.”

“Sit back down, Olivia Darling.” Marribelle snapped before softening. “You want to be with Lon’qu right?”

Olivia sits and responds: “Um… Yes?”

“I personally think you will be good for the man.” Maribelle smirks. Lissa starts bouncing up and down in her chair in excitement.

“So that means…”

“We’re going to help you and Lon out!” Lissa beams, wriggling in excitement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go. Be sure to comment yada yada yada bye!


	42. Chapter 38

The Shepherds went back home after the defeat of Gangrel. Split into their own paths. Some married. Sumia and Chrom married immediately after the battle with Gangrel. Children out of wedlock were almost as scandalous as same sex relationships in Ylissian politics, asinine as they were. If they spent half as much time ruling as they did gossiping in that country, they would be the most well administered state in the entire world.

That was, as you might expect, Robin’s peacetime crusade.

Lon’qu was not expecting the white haired tactician to be half as good at administering as he was. But he, within three months of returning to Ylisse, had built the country of Ylisse back to its former glory under Emmeryn. Another nine made it so that he hadn’t quite gotten it back to it’s former opulence under Chrom’s father, but the bureaucracy was running more efficiently than it had in centuries. Ylisse, under the guidance of Robin, was becoming a superpower.

Meanwhile, Plegia had become a theocracy, disbanded its military, and preached peace from atop of the bony throne. Plegia and Ylisse were innovating at a rapid pace.

Lon’qu was beginning to grow weary at Basilio’s response.

“Me and Flavia are in agreement on this much boy, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” Basilio said. “Our country doesn’t have anything to offer cept men for war and men for farming.”

“Perhaps if we went further North, we would find something to offer in trade besides soldiers and grain.” Lon’qu suggested.

“Nobody who ever went north came back.” Basilio shook his head. “Besides. Our supply lines wouldn’t be able to support a mining colony up there.”

“Isn’t that what the East Khan Walfried said about the waters past the coast before the West Khan found whales in the deep?” Lon’qu pointed out.

Basilio sighed in response to that.

“Listen. If you can figure out the logistical conundrum of keeping an expedition supplied that far north, I’ll send the men. But first, you’re gonna have to learn to read.”

Lon’qu nods in agreement.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Lon’qu waits, sitting in place, his eyes riveted to his tutor. Consuming her form while she looked for the book she wished to teach from next. Her long pink hair cascading in waves outside of it’s normal place in braids. She moved to music that only she could hear, happy and content with him. It still astounded him the confidence she suddenly gained when around him. Almost as if she became more sure of herself with his proximity. Of course, as she moved her body, she set it into movements that attracted the eye, and Lon’qu was, as Basilio would put it, “Getting an eyeful of her arse.”

Lon’qu was sure the woman wouldn’t mind if she caught him. She never would of course. Unless… she already had and the slight dancing was for his benefit...

As Olivia straightened with a book in her arms, Lon’qu’s eyes snapped away. She rushed back to the chair next to him. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement.

“This one is one of my favorites.” She gushed. “I know it by heart because our troupe would perform it on stops throughout our tour.”

Lon’qu struggled to read the title for a moment. “Desert Maiden Fair.”

“A Plegian tale?” Lon’qu asked.

“From Ylisse actually.” Olivia responded. “Or at least, that was the first place my troupe heard it. Doesn’t really matter because love stories are universal.”

“I thought your troupe traveled between Ferox and Plegia.”

“This story had been with our troupe longer than I was.” Olivia responded. “We should read it together!”

The idea of reading a book purely based on the notion of romance did not appeal to Lon’qu in the least. When someone is in love, it is the greatest thing in the world… for them. For everyone else it was an uncomfortable experience that was best to be avoided. Lissa and Marribelle were a prime example of this. He was happy that they had restarted their relationship. He was also happy that they were back in Ylisse now.

That being said… the way her eyes were shining, the way her body trembled just on the edge of excitement, the way she smiled… he couldn’t destroy that. He couldn’t in good conscious destroy something so innocent, so pure, so beautiful… it would be like punching a puppy.

“Alright.” Olivia, uncharacteristically moves her chair closer. Lon’qu’s heart starts beating more quickly.

“Why are you so close woman?” Lon’qu grumbles uncomfortably.

“How are we supposed to read this together if I’m not sitting next to you?” Olivia asked innocently. 

...Like punching a puppy.

Lon’qu sighs and shakes his head. “Just… keep this distance please.”

They begin to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Things are getting busy, but I am sticking with it! An emergency came up, so I'm not sure if I will be posting next week or not, but I will definitely make it up to you if I don't!


	43. Chapter 39

“Lon’qu!~”

This was a dream. Of course it was. But it always seemed so real every time he dreamt it. Ke’ri running up behind him tossing a giggling child up into the air, the fruits of his labor all around. The harvest he brought about himself, watered by his sweat and blood. Fed by purity. Sunshine and springwater and topsoil. He made this family. He made this farm. He made this food.

Because it was all an illusion. Lon’qu didn’t make. He leeched and destroyed. He was a warrior that protected nothing but himself. The worst sort of parasite. 

The farmlands are burning. He is tied against the home he made for himself. His child that he had not named was brained against the stones. And now Ke’ri, along with all of the female shepherds were repeating Ke’ri’s fate. A veritable dragon’s horde of Gold spilling out across the ground.

“Lon’qu!” They screamed for him. But he was tied up. “Lon’qu!” He didn’t even have his blade, how was he supposed to-- “Lon’qu!” He was a failure, he couldn’t protect the-- “Lonqu!”

“Lonqu!” They scream into the sky. “Lon’qu!” They scream into the abyss. “Lon’qu!” They scream and shake his soul.  
“Lon’qu.” Sheila… sounding disappointed. She wasn’t dressed in her ever present armor, but rather a robe of white that accentuated some… rather shapely curves that she never bothered to show off before. She floated above it all both physically and spiritually, looking down on this scene with… utter disgust and disappointment.

“Is this what you were hiding from me? Whenever I asked what was wrong… The fate of your childhood girlfriend. That was what was wrong?” She lands in front of him. “And now you’re worried about every girl you come into contact with… were you worried about me too? Did you ever consider that they can protect themselves? These aren’t some helpless farmgirls, this is an army. You don’t have to take the responsibility of something that just isn’t going to happen.”

The scene began to fade away from behind her as she brought herself down to Lon’qu’s level in the darkness.

“They are your comrades. You’ve seen them in battle. Every single petty guard in Chon’sin couldn’t handle the combined might of the shepherds.” Sheila shakes her head. “Plus Sully’s horse on her own could probably take out a squad or two.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m not sure. It’s your dream, who do you see me as?”

“Someone I lost long ago.”

“Maybe I’m innocence then? No… reason? Not that either…”

“Those are things. Not people.”

“But people can represent things. This person was obviously something to you.”

“A friend.”

“Friendship! No… you are friends with some… or are you?”

“Yes.”

“Damn. Well I suppose I am not representing anything. Maybe I’m just your fevered mind speaking itself in circles.”

“Fevered?”

“Oh yeah. You’re sicker than you’ve ever been right now, buddy.” Sheila, casually and slowly, begins flipping before his eyes. “You couldn’t get up now if you wanted to.” Sheila rights herself. “Probably worried your girlfriend half to death with the way you collapsed in front of her.”

“Olivia isn’t my girlfriend.”

“Oh that’s the part you’re concerned about. Not whether or not she’s okay, not the details of your collapse, no. You’re childishly concerned about others’ perception of your relationship with Olivia.” Sheila giggled a bit. “Well seeing as how I’m your subconscious, you certainly view the relationship as romantic as well, so I don’t want to hear it.”

“You are contradicting yourself. You were acting like Sheila, now you’re playing dumb and pretending to be a separate entity and me at the same time.”

“I told you. I’m a self aware fever dream.”

Lon’qu wasn’t sure if this was worse or not.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Lon’qu woke with a start. A certain yellow haired princess was standing over him.

“That certainly got you up.” Lissa beamed. She seemed to have abandoned her old yellow dress in lieu of a more practical green robe. The parallels to her late sister were not lost on Lon’qu.

“Lissa. Why are you here?” Lon’qu groggily asked, then remembering his dream: “Where is Olivia?”

“I… erm… I’m right here.”

“Lucky you, we were set to arrive two hours after you collapsed. If we did, you would be dead.” Lissa chirped.

“And it would be a rather painful and bloody one too.” Lon’qu knew that voice. The woman from Plegia that started following Robin like a malevolent spirit. The one with the unpronounceable name. Tharya? Tharga? Or Tharja? She never bothered to talk to him before, nor she to him. “You were cursed.” She notified him.

“Who?”

“Don’t know. But whoever it was is regretting it now.” Tharja laughs creepily.

“Um… okay… Tharja…” Olivia looks uncomfortable. “Erm, thank you for your help…”

“Feeling more uncomfortable now that you aren’t wearing the least in the room?” Oof. “Don’t worry. My heart only belongs to one man.” Tharja walks away.

Olivia looks down, sullen. “I should… go…”

“Nope!” Lissa chirps. “You’re being conscripted as a nurse in Lissa’s healing unit.”

“Um… Thanks? You don’t have to…”

“You really don’t understand the meaning of conscription, do you?” Lissa sighs playfully. “You help Mr. Qu get better.”

“Um… Alright. Do you… erm… need anything?”

“I think I’m doing alright.” Lon’qu responded as stiff as a board.

“Wow. You two are terrible at playing doctor.” Lissa sighed. “You’re fine. Lon’qu… I guess.” Lissa walks out of the room.

“Playing… doctor?” Lon’qu turned to a rapidly reddening Olivia.

“Don’t ask…”

Lon’qu sighs and sits up.

“Did I worry you?” Lon’qu asks.

“Of course you did.” Olivia responded, sounding helpless. “Lucky Me that Chrom was here to fight for Flavia and brought Lissa. I… I don’t know what I would do without you.” Olivia sits on the edge of the bed. “I… don’t think I would respond as well as you did.”

There it was again. Another subtly overt admission of love. And there she sat in all her beauty in front of him. Her long braided pink hair caught the midday sunlight turning it into sunset with it’s refraction. Her thin, lithe body within arms reach. ...He didn’t want to lose this beautiful, graceful, loving, helpful woman full of passion for everything she did. Everything he wasn’t. She was fire. He was ice. She had naturally melted his heart.

She was fire, and her lips tasted slightly of pomegranate. Lon’qu left her lips after only a quick peck.

“We should probably take it slow.”

Olivia gaped like a dying fish as Lon'qu left the room. Lon'qu took the last step and propelled both of them into freefall. So I guess my father is ultimately to blame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Obviously I made it. These next few chapters are going to be fun. Look forward to it. Oh, and comment your thoughts feelings and emotions. It makes me feel more confident that real people are reading this!


	44. Chapter 40

The battle with Marth was an eerie repeat of last years, except Olivia sat decidedly next to Lon’qu. This pleased Basilio.

“I suppose you learned better from last year huh?”

“...I suppose I did.” Lon’qu subtly takes the hand of Olivia. She turned a bright red and says nothing. But she doesn’t let go of his hand. If Basilio noticed this, he gave no indication.

After Marth's embarrassing loss for the second year in a row, Lon'qu heard many a West Feroxi citizen call his name. He was, after all, still undefeated in the arena. And sitting next to Basilio right now.

The individual calls became a flood. The crowds hearts become one as the waters of the chant pulsed with the beat. Even East Feroxi citizens wanted to see the Chon'sinese warrior battle. This populism, this appeal was something indicative of what was to come.

Flavia silenced the crowd with a motion.

“What do you say, oaf? Raimi is up for a bout! An unofficial match between former champions?”

Lon'qu let go of Olivia's hand and began his trek to the arena grounds.

“I think that's Lon'qu's answer.” Basilio roars. The crowd cheers. Olivia stood and pulled Lon'qu into a kiss in front of the entire watching crowd. The cheers grew louder. 

This kiss was much more deep, much more passionate than the one they shared in Lon'qu's bedroom. The shock of the sudden action had worn off, leaving that burning passionate desire resting on the tip of her tongue that she was currently sharing with him. Everything, for once, was right. There was only her, and Lon'qu. The intensifying screams of the crowd didn't matter, Basilio's beaming, ecstatic laughter didn't matter, not even the shocked gasps of some of the women mattered. The only thing that mattered to either one of them in that singular, all encompassing moment, was each other.

She pulled away with a blush, almost as if she just realized what she did, in front of all of Regna Ferox no less! She was almost as red as Marribelle gets when she is flustered. “F-for luck.” She managed out before seating herself. Lon’qu noticed that “Marth” was making an uncharacteristically quick exit. While Chrom smiled up at him in his way. He saw Lissa jumping up and down in joy in Flavia's box. ...And then he went down to meet Raimi in battle.

Defeating her didn't even take half of his concentration anymore.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Marth was waiting for him after the match was over, mask discarded in lieu of a vaguely disappointed look. 

“Congratulations.”

“Raimi is getting slower. I am getting faster.”

“How long have you and Olivia been together?” Marth crosses her arms.

“I don't think that's your business.” Lon'qu deadpans.

“Me being from the future? I think it's my business.”

“No. It's not.” Lon'qu rolls his eyes. “Are we done here?”

“...Just stop seeing Olivia. It will save a lot of people suffering.”

Marth walked away from Lon'qu, and the next time they would speak to one another she would be Lucina. And ultimately… she would be right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to Comment!


	45. Interlude 4: Olivia's Devotion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this requires a prefice. I love writing poetry. I am writing this fanfic. My good friend N610 challenged me to write a poem fanfic. But Lonny boy is not one for poetry. You know who is? Olivia is into all sorts of art, so this is right up her alley. Please give me feedback if you'd like to get more poems in this fanfic, or if I should make more in a seperate fic, or if I should just stop. I would really appreciate it!

I long for your body’s warmth  
On cold Feroxi nights  
This impenetrable frigid force:  
A cold stone wall  
Or Four  
Surrounding me, Entombing me  
Claustrophobia is loneliness personified  
Strength admired leads to desire  
Leads to love-- pain over fear  
Let me approach and cradle  
Your terror and torment away  
Let me approach and smile  
Into your abyss, fill your void  
Let me approach, Let me love  
Let me kiss, Let me Fuck  
Let your warmth thrum through me.  
Let your warmth break down  
These cold stone walls  
And if I am not worth that,  
Then chain me to your bed  
Let me be your whore  
Not because I don’t want more,  
But because I want your happiness  
More than myself  
I want to be needed, you need to be wanted  
So don’t let fear ruin it.  
I fear the eyes of the world,  
But I don’t want you to stop staring.


	46. Chapter 41

Reading soon became Lon'qu's favorite part of the day. The material was interesting, it felt as productive as training with his blade, and the company was a perk in its own right. As Olivia opened herself up to her beau, Lon'qu realized how passionate she was about art and dancing. A passion that was infectious, honestly. Whenever he saw her get happy about anything, her lavender orbs sparkling, her talking with her hands, and that laugh… he couldn’t help to want to be that. And that was a side to her that only he got to see. She trusted him enough to watch her practice, to lower her guard around him.

Lon'qu tried to match that, but he soon found out that he wasn't a man of passion like her. He didn't care about things. He cared about people. Deeply. Olivia was the greatest example of this. Every day he was becoming more enamoured with her every movement. He wasn't one to initiate public displays of affection beyond hand holding though, and Olivia was much the same way. Unless she was proving a point. Lon'qu could always tell if there was a jealous maid or foreign noblewoman enamoured with his reputation nearby. She always gave him a quick peck on the lips. Claiming him in front of them. He didn't mind. Her lips always tasted like pomegranate. It quickly became his favorite fruit.

As for his part… well…

They were walking along in the market, and Olivia was attracting attention, as she tended to do. Even in a more modest dress coat her figure was eye catching. Lon'qu kept his hand on his blade and his eye on any man who dared let his eyes wander too far.

“Basilio’s birthday is coming up.” Olivia said to him.

“That it is.” A man recoils when Lon'qu meets his eyes. He smirks in response.

“We could cook a meal for him. ...I know how good you are with potatoes…” Olivia says, almost impishly. It was remarkable how much confidence she gained in his proximity.  
“That I am. I am not to bad with fish either.” Another man drops his gaze. His lover gets excited.

“I know this great spice blend for a baked fish!” Olivia smiles widely. “It would be a delicious meal for all of us!”

“I’m pretty sure Basilio would be satisfied to eat dirt if it was with all of us.” Lon’qu chuckled. “But a good meal will do us all well.”

“You’re right. Basilio sure does love our company.”

“He has surely had enough of mine lately. You are always either with me, or practicing dancing. I’m sure he misses you.” Lon’qu stares down another leering male. 

“Perhaps.” Olivia smiles. “But I want… I want you to meet my family.” Olivia tells him.

“How so?”

“One circuit of the continent with us?” Olivia begs. “You’re a great swordsman, and I’m sure Basilio can do without you for a month.”

“...Surely.” Lon’qu had never asked for a day off from Basilio in his life. He could ask for a month now. “But what does swordplay have to do with being a Gypsy?”

“You’re very good at protecting me.” Olivia giggles as Lon’qu stares another prospective pervert down. “Plus a lot of our plays require swordplay. You could help choreograph the fights, perhaps be one of the goons.”

“With my skills, you would think that I should be the hero.” Lon’qu smirks.

“Lon’qu, I love you, and you are many things. But actor you are not.” Olivia tells him.

“Are you sure?”

“Lon, your inflection is terrible, and any character you play would just be you. They would have to create a role for you, and that is just not something we do.” Olivia tells him bluntly.

“You are brutally honest when it comes to art.”

“I love you anyway. Don’t worry.” Olivia cheerfully responds.

“I know you do.” Lon’qu grins.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

“You want to what boy?”

“Olivia wants me to tour the major cities on the continent with her troop.” Lon'qu takes a deep breath. “I wish to go.”

Basilio stands up, straightfaced and as quiet as a mouse. “You do realize the significance of this… right?” Basilio takes a deep breath...

“Well, Olivia wants to show me how she lives when she's on the road.” Lon'qu supposed.

“No, no, for your relationship.” Basilio said, waving the other response away.

“Don’t be coy. Enlighten me.”

“When you are in a relationship with someone, you introduce yourself to one another's parents.”

“But I don't have parents.” Lon'qu pointed out. “And neither does she.”

“But the troop is family to her. ...She wants you to know her family. This is the time to figure out if your serious about her.” Basilio breathes again.

“I’m always serious.” Lon'qu grins slightly. Basilio gives a great big belly laugh in response.

“No, but you know that I'm not the type to… sleep around. I've had plenty of opportunity for that.” Lon'qu reminds him.

“Do you love her?”

Lon'qu visibly struggles with this notion. Loving another human being was the utmost in vulnerability physically and emotionally. He knew that firsthand. On the street, it was common for daggers to find the backs of so called lovers. But he trusted Olivia. With his life many times over. She wouldn't hurt him. Not intentionally anyway. Then perhaps the question was if he was capable of loving her.

Was there fear? Of course there was. Every time he held her in his arms she seemed so small and frail… as if he touched the wrong place the waking daydream that she was would shatter. He… couldn’t help it. He was inescapably and irrevocably in love with that woman. Hopeless attraction. He was attracted to her body, sure. But that wasn’t what made it so he couldn’t live without her. He was attracted to the passion that she imbued into everything she did. That was the thing. He lived so long with nothing but passionless survival on his mind. It was a magnetism. And that was more powerful than the fear in some ways.

But in some ways, the fear controlled him even now. If he admitted that he loved her verbally… that would be like challenging the universe. He wasn't meant to be happy. 

But he wasn't meant to leave Chon'sin either.

“Yes.” Lon'qu managed. “I do.”

Basilio laughed his greatest laugh of all and pulled him into an embrace.

“You’re growing Lon'qu. You and Olivia are good for each other. ...You can go.” Basilio wiped the tears collecting under his eye, then went back to being brusque. “But only on one tour! I don't want to see you running off and becoming a gypsy forever. You're needed here, boy. And bring that girl of yours back with you.” Lon'qu nodded in response.

...Truly the orphans and the childless are the most blessed by family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love that last line. So many layers to it. Anyway, be sure to comment your thoughts!


	47. Chapter 42

The gypsy caravan was a colorful patchwork. Reds and blues and greens set upon tans and drab greys spoke of a language of thrift and creativity. A story of a people who saw value in even the smallest scrap of fabric. The air around them smelled of clean sweat and the sizzling fat of meat. They smiled widely in a way that made Lon'qu glad he did not bring his coinpurse. But despite the opulence of meat and smiles, they wear clothes worn thin by desert sun and Feroxi wind. They stood lean, bone showing as often as corded muscle, but their skin didn't quite stretch thin over bone. They were a collage of nationalities as well. Rosanian, Feroxi, Chon'sinese, Ylissian, Plegian, Valmish, and more united by passion for art and a desire for freedom. United by something more than language and identity. That is what Lon'qu saw as Olivia led him through her caravan.

She walked Lon'qu straight up to a middle aged man, Feroxi in ethnicity, but short and with a twisted left arm. He had a weathered face, aged by the weather his caravan endured. His face was marked with scorn. A scowl across his face that spoke of years of mistreatment. Perhaps because of his disability, perhaps because of his occupation. His eyes were clever though. Conveying a great ammount of knowledge from just a glance at the green orbs. Olivia marched up to him with a smile.

“Orn!” She laughed. The Feroxi man’s scowl evaporated at the sight of Olivia-- not many could stay angry in her presence.

“Olivia! I could barely recognize you under all of that confidence!” Olivia blushed in response, and Orn gave a good hearted snicker in response to this. “And who is this man with you?”

“...My lover. Lon'qu.” Both Orn and Lon'qu cocked an eyebrow at this unexpected moniker.

“The man who taught you how to fight?” Orn asked to clarify. Lon'qu nodded in response. “Olivia has had nothing but praise for you. I hope you realize the luck you have in finding her. Men would kill to be in your shoes.”

“Not if I kill them first.” Lon'qu deadpans.

“I have a feeling we'll get along just fine.” Orn snickers again. “Anyone who is that possessive of our little Olivia is okay in my book.”

He said that, but he had this apprehensive look in his eye. He's still on the fence. Olivia, noticing this, continues the conversation.

“Orn, trust me. Every single woman in Ferox would kill to be in my shoes.” Olivia laughs a bit nervously.

“Not if I kill them first.” Lon'qu repeats himself with the exact same inflection. It wasn't until Olivia slapped his arm lightly that a small grin broke over his face.

“Alright Mr. Bigshot. You may miss a couple of meals. If you aren't alright with that, you can skip back to your cush castle--”

“Where he voluntarily skips meals so he can train more.” Olivia points out. “I wouldn't have brought him if I didn't think he could handle it.”

“Alright… We only have one tent to spare, but I don't think that's an issue for you two now is it?” Orn asked, pulling down a piece of patchwork cloth and a few sticks. Lon'qu had a couple of questions and a few more objections, but Olivia spoke for them both:

“We’ll be fine.” Olivia blushes a bit as Orn hands Lon'qu the tent.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

After a day's journey the caravan set up camp, and Lon'qu surprised several of the gypsies by setting up his tent without even glancing in their direction for aid. It's as if they didn't realize he had been in a military unit before.

Olivia went in soon after the surprisingly spacious structure was set up. She curled up close to Lon'qu and blushed a bit when he put an arm around her. She sighed with a satisfied smile sliding across her face.

“I’m so glad you decided to do this.” Olivia told him, placing her head on his collarbone.

“I know how much it means to you.” Lon'qu commented, twisting at a piece of her hair.

“Oh really?” She looks up at him. “How do you know that? I never told you directly…”

“You are too easy to read. When you are unsure, you show it. When you are angry or scared, you show it. When you are happy, you show it.”

“And Now?”

“You are pleased with yourself.” Olivia gives a tiny smirk in response to this, and gives another task to this veritable soothsayer:

“Why?”

“...Admittedly I am not so well versed in the why of things yet.” Lon'qu sighs. Olivia giggles in response and props herself on her elbow.

“And here I was, thinking you were a mind reader.”

“A feeling reader.” Lon'qu corrects. “And that's only because you're like a puppy.”

“How dare you!” Olivia slaps him lightly.

“Don't be coy. You love dogs.” Lon'qu reminds her.

“You can prove nothing.”

“Every time we pass one, you have to pet it.” Lon'qu points out, as playful as a Lon'qu can be. “Even if we are on urgent business from Basilio, you have to pet the dog.” Olivia rolls her eyes

“Fine. How am I like a dog?”

“Every time you see something or someone you like, your eyes light up like candles.” Lon'qu says, an unreadable expression across his face.

“Is that bad?” Olivia asked, unsure of the feelings going through her beaux.

“Your eyes are beautiful. Never change.” Lon'qu reassures her, and yet that lingering doubt remained…

“I… I wish I could say the same about you. That I knew what you were feeling. You only ever make it clear when you are uncomfortable.” Olivia lays down a bit separate from him, which alerted Lon’qu to the gravity of what she was saying. She usually wanted to remain as close to him as comfortable for both

“It's… something I never really lost from the streets.” Lon'qu struggled a bit-- he wasn't used to talking about his past. “If you show someone your emotions, they can use it against you. It's a vulnerability.”

“...I get that.” Olivia nodded, moving back close. “I understand that fear. But you can trust me. You can let me in.”

“...I know.” Lon’qu hesitates a moment, breathing in. “...I will tell you then. I am worried about your troupe.” Olivia looked confused.

“Why?”

“...They don't trust me.” Olivia smiled in relief.

“Of course they don't!” Olivia’s smile falls just as quickly as it appears. “...We're the scraps society cast off their plate to the dogs. They don't know you.” Olivia sits up on one elbow again. “The only reason you're traveling with us is because of me and Basilio. They respect him.” Her eyes go downcast for a moment. “...He has always found value in scraps.”

Lon’qu places a finger under Olivia’s chin to direct her gaze to his. “I am fortunate that he does.” He says with a small smile. “...Else a scrap like me would have never met someone like you.” Olivia’s mouth opens and closes like a fish.

“Lon'qu… I love you so much. ...Say that again.”

“Please don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Please?”

He could never refuse her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, in case you didn't, Thanksgiving is next week. I will be taking next week off because work + holiday preperation = Absolute insanity. But don't worry! I will be back two weeks from now with another chapter. Be sure to comment your thoughts! I'd really appreciate it!


	48. Chapter 43

Before the first performance near the Plegian-Ferox border, Olivia was humming as she combed out and rebraided her long pink hair. She breathes in the fresh early morning air as it chases away woes and revitalises the soul as the strongest coffee. Lon’qu watches his lover in all but most intimate deed ready herself for a day of performance. She smiles at him, and he feels more awake than he has ever been, every sense firing into overdrive as he looks upon this most beautiful creature that he had somehow managed to ensnare.

“Have you decided what you’re going to do for the festival?” She asks him, the rhythmic strokes satisfied and laying true.

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve.” Lon’qu nodded.

“I hope so. You have to impress them enough to let you stay after all.”

“I think I can manage.” Lon’qu said cryptically.

“Confidence.” Olivia nods. “A good start.”

“I think you’ll find that I am more than equal to the task.” Lon’qu traced a few fingers on a bare portion of her back. “After all, I need to stay with you…”

“You’re sweet. I’m sure you can think of something.” Olivia beams. That was when someone entered that Lon’qu was not expecting.

A younger woman of Chon’sin or half Chon’sinese origin walked into their tent. She was the spitting image of Ke’ri. Standing short of slim build, she looked exactly like Ke’ri did so long ago except wearing a provocative dancer’s dress. It made him recoil in shock. This could not be. She could not be…

“Layla!” Olivia chirped happily. “I was wondering where you were. Layla, This is Lon’qu.”

“I know who he is.” It isn’t Ke’ri. She wouldn’t make her voice that sultry.

“Lon’qu, this is my sister Layla.” Layla does not seem happy.

“I am not your sister!” She stamps and pouts cutely.

“That isn’t what you said last time!” Olivia beams. “You asked if you could be my sister, and we got cute little matching dancing outfits made, a--”

“I’m not your sister anymore! Now I’m your rival. I am the main dancer whenever you run off to your Sugar Daddy, Basilio.” Layla smirks as Olivia looks like a fish for a moment.

“Nothing uncouth happened between me and Basilio.” Layla sucks up her mirth immediately and looks very serious.

“Do you see this?” She gestures at her face. “This is the face of supreme doubt.” She straightens her back and stretches to the sky. “Let’s just agree to do what we’re best at.” She gestures at herself. “Dancer.” She points at Olivia. “Whore. Those giant milk bags won’t get in the way if you’re Horizontal.”

Olivia suddenly shouts:

“WHO TAUGHT YOU THOSE WORDS?!?!?” And jumps towards the smug little girl.

“Get off me!” Layla shrieks, trying to push the clinging Liv off, but to no avail. There she clung.

Lon’qu gives a small smile at this. No matter how much she protested, Layla could not hide the esteem she held for Olivia. But Olivia has done something to hurt her to cause this facade. Something… Something…

“I can’t be sexy for Lon’qu if you make me look like a little girl!” Layla whines.

And there it was. A Ke’ri clone saying what was suggestion overtly. ...It made him consider. Was Olivia a replacement for Ke’ri? Did he love Ke’ri more than he did Olivia? It felt… More intense then. He was more passionate as a child. 

Simply put, he was a different person.

He had it right at the first. ...The Lon’qu who loved Ke’ri died with her that day. The Lon’qu that loves Olivia was born. It is as simple as that. ...Even if that weren’t the case, Layla is not Ke’ri.

“Why do you want to be sexy for my boyfriend?”

“He doesn’t deserve a skank like you!” Olivia jumps off. Looks down.

“You’re right. ...Lon’qu deserves better than me.” Lon’qu speaks up for the first time in this conversation.

“Whether or not that is true, I want Olivia.” Lon’qu smiles. “And it isn’t true. She hasn’t slept with anyone. ...Not even me.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed Lon’qu.” Olivia smirks a bit. “You’re the one who has been ignoring the… what did she call them? Giant Milk Bags sleeping next to you every night.”

Lon’qu’s face burns. Layla looks shocked. Olivia looks like a tomato.

“Well… Maybe we should rectify that.”

“Maybe we should.” Olivia agrees. “Tonight then?”

“Tonight.” Lon’qu nods.

“You two are so fucking awkward about this, I can’t believe my ears.” The girl five years Olivia’s junior sighs.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Lon’qu had figured out what he could do to contribute to the funds of the caravan long before they even left for the journey. But to do it, he needed to recruit some help. That help came from a boy in his middle teens with a powerful voice. Abram.

“So you want me to help you.” Abram considered.

“I provide the skill, you provide the crowd. I do not have that particular skill.” Lon’qu posited. “And since you are an understudy, I think that you stand to gain a lot for putting your name to another venture.”

“...Orn doesn’t like charity cases… You got yourself a deal. You’re swords, right? You know any tricks?”

“I can cut through a filled urn without it cracking.” Lon’qu suggests.

“Impressive, but not really feasible. Pottery is expensive.”

“I can also use my sword to peel and quarter a potato in midair.” Lon’qu states nonchalantly.

“That is… oddly specific, but we can set up near the kitchens and offer to peel potatoes for them as well…” Abram seemed to be getting into the idea now.

“Also you can run betting for paid matches against the great Feroxi champion. As well as the contestants buying in to fight.”

“You are pretty smart Mr. Qu. I’ll get the other understudies in on the fun as well. I have a feeling that this is going to be profit enough for more than a few of us…”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

“Step right up, come on come on! Witness the great champion of Ferox’s mighty skill with the blade for only a single gold piece! Purchase the right to a match with the man for only ten! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity!”

“The odds for Lon’qu are one to two. The odds for his opponent are one to fifty! That means all you have to do is put one gold in the pot and you could potentially make yourself a month’s pay! Twelve for a year!”

“I’ll put in twelve gold against the champion!”

“Fried potato quarters peeled by the champ himself! Only two gold pieces per quarter! Eat food that the champ himself helped prepare right in front of you!”

“I’ll take a whole potato!”

“Eight gold sir.”

“Cold Ale! Only 3 gold for a pint! Three gold!”

“I’m the best fighter in Ferox! He should be paying me for the right to fight him!”

“It only costs ten gold to prove that. ...If you also bet on yourself, you can make your money back and more for only a single gold piece.”

“I’ll put ten on for myself and make this farce broke.”

“Sir, you’ve had enough to drink. We’re going to have to cut you off.”

“Fine! I guess I’ll just have to fight the champ!”

“Godfrey, you wouldn’t win a fight against a wooden post in this state!”

Overall a menagerie of the smell of food, the noise of blade crashing against blade providing an undertone to the catcalls of rejects. Money spilled from pockets to be scooped up by the enterprise as the eight of them continued to work until sundown when the main show was set to begin. Each person was required to scrape together at least twenty gold through means scrupulous or un by the time they packed up on the third day. After the venture officially closed Abram ran up to Lon’qu who was cleaning his sword.

“This is only the first day and we’ve made almost a thousand gold pieces! We don’t even have to open the next two days!”

“We won’t.” Lon’qu informed him.

“What, are you crazy? This is--”

“Something that will only happen once per location we visit. The people will wise up and start betting for me on every match. We’ll make net losses if we continue to open.” Lon’qu interrupted.

“How do you know about this sort of thing?” Abram cocked his head.

“Lived on the street most of my life. For every sucker there are two more who would try to sucker you. The suckers already emptied their pockets. I would not risk filling the pockets of cons.” Lon’qu shook his head. 

“I’ll… let the others know. It… probably doesn’t mean much to hear, but you think like a Gypsy. Olivia picked an alright guy in my book.”

And with that, Lon’qu realized that he was well on his way to impressing Olivia’s family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not write as much as I needed to over Thanksgiving. Kinda stressful, but hey! Right here is where the lemon chapter would take place. (Yay.) So if you want to see that, be sure to leave a comment on this chapter and I will post it on a separate fic. Anyway. Next week you should be getting more info about the narrator's audience than was presented in interlude 2...


	49. Chapter 44/Interlude 5: An Audience Revealed

“I’m so happy Lon’qu.” Olivia kisses his bare collarbone. “You make me happy.”

“It’s not as if I got nothing out of the deal either.” Lon’qu smirked.

“No… you decided that I was something you wanted to share yourself with.” Olivia smiles. “Me. This broken girl who doesn’t know how to fix herself.”

“Olivia… You’re acting like I’m not broken too. We’re all broken in some way or another. We all have something wrong with us. We just have to find people to help us fix ourselves.” Lon’qu mutters into her pink hair. “And you have already helped me beyond what you already know.”

“Can we get married Lon?” Olivia asks sleepily. “I don’t need a ring or a wedding or a sheet of paper. Just… tell me that you’ll be with me forever.”

“I will be with you forever Olivia.” Lon’qu promised. “Now until the sun flickers out like a candle on a windy Feroxi night, and even then I will be there to keep you warm.” Lon’qu absentmindedly fondles his wife’s breast. “Now until time itself dies.”

“You should write poetry.” Olivia tells him, moving herself to straddle atop him, her naked form outlined in moonlight and worshiped by the stars. Lon’qu’s breath caught in his throat.

“Only for you.” Lon’qu chuckles. “I guess how inspired you get inspires me.”

“I’m glad you like me so much.” Olivia giggles, laying herself atop her husband so that their lips met.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

(Interlude 5: An audience revealed.)

“No Elise. I am not going further.”

“But, [Redacted]! What if I want to hear about it?”

“Elise. I am not making up details about how my father had sex. No.”

“But it’s so romantic.”

“...Elise. That’s gross.”

“But that’s how you were made right? Right?”

“...”

“Is something wrong?”

“No. I’m just going to keep telling the story, alright?”

“[Redacted], you can talk to me.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, alright? Let’s just keep going.”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

The Feroxi Plegian border was clearly marked by a wall of stone. This is where Sheila lost her life. On this monolith hidden by mountain and snow. Here was where the troop must cross every year to perform for Plegia. And here stood a pair of men in ragged Plegian uniforms, blocking the way in. Orn stepped forward to negotiate with these men, but from the pantomime Lon’qu was witnessing, the talks were not going in their favor. Lon’qu turned to Olivia.

“I’m going up there.” Olivia shakes her head.

“Lon’qu, Orn can handle it you d--” She cuts herself off and sighs. Lon’qu was already gone down the road ahead of her. She sprinted to keep up a bit to be at his side. She refused to be one of those women who stared longingly at the backs of “greater” men.

There were two of them standing confidently like the world was theirs to administrate. Their clothing spoke a different story. Slipshod and irregular, they look like they were made by commoners. Which was not necessarily a bad thing, but it did speak to the actual origin of these brigands.

Orn spoke, extending his good arm, his twisted and stubby one hanging like a discordant note. He looked calm, but his eyes relayed his actual fear to Lon’qu.

“Look, we are just honest travelers.” Orn tried to assure them before being cut off.

“Then you won't mind if you pay the toll.” The guard deadpanned.

“All of our papers are in order.” Orn protested. At this point, Lon’qu noticed the crown of three men’s hair in the brush beside the road. Archers most likely. Assumably untrained by the looks of their poor attempts at remaining hidden.

“Doesn't change the fact that there is a toll.” The man continued to perpetuate the farce.

“There was never a toll be--”

“These are not Plegian army.” Lon’qu interrupted, tiring at these men’s attempts at subterfuge.

“I could have you detained.” He surely was a good actor, but the fear in his eyes already showed that this encounter was over.

“I should kill you for insulting my intelligence.” Lon’qu deadpanned. “You carry no shields, your spears are a foot shorter than regulation, and the Plegian emblem on guard's armor is on the left pauldron, not the right.”

“A lot of changes came with the theocracy--”

“Also, if you truly were guards, there would be no reason to station three men with poorly strung bows in the bushes behind you.” Lon’qu said, ending the half hearted excuses.

“...Heh.” The bandit, revealing his true colors, leveled his pike with Lon’qu’s chest. Olivia drew her sword in response, glaring at the men. “Fine. Money or life?”

“I'm going to tell you what is going to happen.” Lon’qu informed him, unperturbed by the spear that was leveled in his direction. “I am going to kill you first, and before your friend can mount a proper defense, he will be dead too.” He said, pointing at each when he would strike the killing blow. “Your other friends in the bushes may have a chance to kill me, assuming they can shoot straight and they don't flee. Which is assuming a lot. Or…” Lon’qu bats the pike so that it is not pointing at him. “You can let us continue on unmolested. Which will it be?”  
“Boss, he was at the battle of the midmire… I don't think we sh--”

“What did I say about talking?”

“Let you do it…” The man sounded as sullen and petulant as Layla could get.

“Fine. Welcome to Plegia. Don't let the door hit you on the way in.” The Bandit chief let the caravan roll through. Orn looks to our intrepid swordsman.

“...Thank you.” He tells the man before continuing on ahead. Olivia glares daggers at her husband.

“You aren’t happy with me.” Lon’qu noted.

“No.” Olivia turns away. “No I’m not.”

“What’s wrong?” Lon’qu asks her, taking one of her hands in his.

“Take a wild guess.” Olivia told him, pulling her hand out of his grasp.

“You told me not to come down here.” Lon’qu noted.

“Do you know how dangerous that was? You could have died in a hundred different ways!”

“I merely did what was necessary.” Lon’qu notified his wife.

“Oh yes.” Olivia rolled her eyes. “That was absolutely necessary. There was absolutely no other way to avoid that without confronting them. No way at all.”

“Everything ended up fine.”

“Sure. It did. But it could have gone horribly wrong.” Olivia lets out a big puff of air from her nostrils as a punctuation to her anger. “I don’t want to lose you to a battle that can be entirely avoided.”

“I just wanted to make sure those men wouldn’t bother people that were important to you.” Lon’qu assured her.

“You are important to me Lon’qu.” Olivia pointed out. “You are the most important thing to me. I don’t know what I would do if you were suddenly killed over something as stupid as brigands at the border.” Olivia turns to him. “Please Lon’qu… Just… Understand that you aren’t just living for yourself anymore. Just as you claim to need me, I need you. Don’t throw your life away like that. Please?”

Lon’qu nods at her silently and kisses her worried forehead. He got the distinct feeling that this was the first argument of hundreds of very similar arguments between them. ...Was a relationship supposed to be like that? He didn’t know anything about one. He had no point of real reference. But… As long as they argued because they didn’t want to lose one another, he supposed there was nothing wrong with that.

Maybe.

Lon’qu had no idea what he was doing honestly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to comment!


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